Fall Back to Life
by KasumiCho
Summary: Sequel to Middle of the Summer. Ali swore she would never see Seto Kaiba again. Never try to make him laugh, never look in his eyes, never ask him for help. Never again. But five years can change everything, and this time it isn't her who needs the help.
1. Silver, Gold, and Glass

**Fall Back to Life**

**Chapter: **1

**Title: **Silver, Gold, and Glass

**Fiction Rated: **R, it's still all about the mature themes, and adult humour. Now with added sexual content, drug abuse, self mutilation and half the calories. Always fresh, never from frozen.

**Disclaimer: **If I ever came to own an empire, I'd probably be too lazy to keep it in the spotlight and everyone would forget about it. So—although I'm sure there are a few of you who wouldn't mind seeing Ali animated—be thankful that _Takahashi Kazuki_ hasn't handed any rights over to me. I own Ali, though, and look what a loser she is.

**Summary:** Five years is a long time, it's long enough for a family to be torn apart, and a new one to form. It is enough time to learn to live, or to wait for death. In five years you can discover who you really are, and decide whether or not you like it. Unfortunately five years is also long enough to deep-root a grudge, rot a broken heart, and rebuild walls that were beginning to fall.

* * *

Ali splashed cold water on her face and stood still, letting it roll off in icy rivulets to land in the filthy steel sink. Wiping the excess moisture from her eyelids, she opened them and stared at her reflection in the streaked mirror.

Under the pale florescent lights her skin looked tired and washed out, the freckles that used to be so bright on her skin had faded, leaving only the lightest sprinkle of their existence. Her blonde hair hug past her shoulder blades in a depressingly-straight fashion, but it had been brushed, so she was content. She peered at her eyes, almost black in the light, and noticed light brown bangs beneath them.

Sleep had been a rare gem for the past week, which was unusual for the Russian considering how often she slept otherwise. But so many stressed decision making and late night brooding sessions had gone into getting her where she was now. She wiped a rough paper towel over her face and spit down into the sink.

Airport washrooms always seemed to be in the worst shape allowable to still meet health check standards. She washed her hands and then ran her wet fingers through her hair, hoping to hide the fact that it had been pressed against a seat for ten hours.

When she was satisfied with her appearance—or just too lazy to continue working on it—she turned around and stared at the olive-green bathroom stalls. There were four of them, but only one was occupied.

"Come on, Chloe, mommy can't wait forever. We have places to be, right?" she said gently, she glanced at the clock on the wall. It was very early in the morning, but she felt as though she should be eating dinner. Jetlag was never a good friend to the travelling.

A toilet flushed and the stall opened.

Chloe bounced out, her thick blonde hair tied in two low pigtails that hung to her hips. She was wearing a firm frown on her ripe, round mouth.

"They should wash in here." She complain, her childish voice pronouncing every word adorably in English. "Don't they wash in Japan?"

Ali laughed lightly, helping the small girl reach the taps to wash her hands. "I don't think any airport washes anything." She chuckled.

"I hate Japan." The child pouted. Ali handed her a paper towel and stared down into Chloe's shimmering brown eyes, a few flecks of blue could be seen peaking out from behind the brown topaz colour.

"You're only four; you shouldn't hate anything except G.I Joe." Ali groaned, "Besides, we've only been here for fifteen minutes. Wait until you get to a candy store, you'll totally forget that you're not here on vacation."

Chloe shrugged and let the Russian take her hand and lead her out of the washroom. Her black Mary Jane shoes clicked softly on the floor while Ali's heavy army boots clunked over the tiles. The two weaved through the crowds until they spotted another blonde seated on a bench and surrounded by suitcases.

"Mom!" Chloe yelled as soon ass they were close enough to be heard, "You should have seen the bathroom, it was so gross."

Mai stood up from the bench, and hugged the child. Ali stood back and watched.

It was impossible to deny that Mai—although not someone who could be called a 'traditional' mother—loved her daughter. And Ali could see why, the child was beautiful, she was intelligent, she knew what she wanted and how to get it. Anyone who knew Chloe knew that she had everyone wrapped around her finger. Her unique eyes and conservatively beautiful features got her everything she wanted, when she wanted it.

So when Mai had insisted on the trip to Japan—despite the fact that Chloe was starting her first year of school in a week—there had been many temper-tantrums and thrown stuffed animals.

A young man interrupted Ali's thought when he appeared with a trolley to take their bags out for them. Ali slung her worn black canvas bag over her shoulder and followed.

She didn't _have_ to tag along for the trip, but after mulling over it, she'd realized that it was the right thing to do. She bit down on her lip at the thought. Maybe it _wasn't_ the right thing to do, after all, five years was a long time. The last time she had set foot in the country she'd been eighteen and immature.

Now she was twenty three and immature, but she wanted to check in on the life she had left behind. At least make sure that everything was all right.

Or every_one_ but she wasn't planning on going so far as that. Mai was in town for a fashion show, Chloe was crucial to the show since Mai was planning on introducing her line of children's clothing with Chloe as a model.

"Hey, Ali, get out of dream land and into the car." Mai prodded.

Ali blinked back to reality and realized that there was a green Mercedes Benz parked next to her. She immediately assumed it was the rental that Mai had called for.

"You never fail to travel stylishly." Ali laughed, pulling open the passenger door while Mai strapped Chloe—and her car seat—into the back.

"I'm expected to look good, and the people around me should, too." She smirked at Ali.

The Russian frowned and stared down at her outfit; a fitted black t-shirt with a bag of Skittles as the design. Her jeans fit her, and aside from a few scuffs and small rips, they were relatively new. There was a light fall jacket hanging above her knees, black and properly fitted at the waist. The green combat boots were barely visible.

"I think I look fine!" she said defensively.

"But you'd look better in _my _designs."

"Hey, I'm not your dress-up toy anymore, you have a kid now."

Mai sighed, "I know I do." She slipped into the front seat and buckled her seatbelt. Before she plugged the key into the ignition she turned to Ali. "Do you think we'll see him?"

Ali stared back at her friend. She knew who '_him_' was. She glanced back at Chloe who was clutching a stuffed dog. _'He_' had been on Mai's mind since moving to Canada, and especially the past few weeks, Ali knew, even if her friend didn't bring it up.

"We might. But you never know what might have changed. Don't rush into anything, but don't write it off yet." Ali smiled back at her best friend.

Mai grinned, too, "If you could follow your own advice maybe you wouldn't still be wearing ripped jeans." She joked.

Ali laughed, but felt a pang of guilt rush through her chest.

**. . .**

Ali stared out the huge window in her hotel room. It looked out on a small street in Domino that she was sure she must have walked a hundred times before, but didn't remember. She tapped her pen on the desk she was sitting at, and glanced back down at the blank sheet of paper before her.

She sighed loudly and stood up; clearly she wasn't going to make any progress, so it was better to move around. She tossed her cigarettes into her bag and tucked a notebook under her arm and a pen behind her ear. She pulled her boots on, not bothering with the laces, and shut the door behind her.

Ali had been insistent on paying for her own room, since she was staying separately—Mai didn't let Ali's cigarette smoke within ten feet of Chloe. Besides, with all the hit songs she had managed to pump out over the past few years, she was able to afford the occasional luxury. It came in handy when she couldn't sleep and didn't want Mai asking questions.

Chloe and her mother would be sleeping off the jetlag, it was six p.m. and both wouldn't be waking up until the next morning. Ali smirked, Mai would probably be waking up at regular intervals to check her email and voicemail, but Chloe would be able to sleep for the full fourteen hours, no problem. She grinned again, knowing that it was genetic.

"Would you like a map, ma'am?" one of the receptionists offered when she saw Ali leaving. The woman was speaking in English, obviously under the impression that Ali was a tourist.

"No, thanks, I'm familiar." Ali smiled back in quick Japanese. The woman apologized and smiled, again.

The Russian stepped out onto the sidewalk and felt the still-warm air of early fall—or, late summer?—rub against her skin. She hadn't bothered with a coat, but it didn't matter, she wouldn't be out long enough to get chilled.

The streets were busy with people as usual. If anything, she had missed the hustle and bustle of Japan. The Canadian city she had been living in for the past four years was nice, but not the same as Domino by any stretch.

When Mai decided on having her baby, she and Ali moved to Canada together, both hoping for a break from everything else that was going on in their lives. But true to her usual behaviour Ali hadn't been able to stay put, so she'd begun making regular flights to America and meeting with musicians. It didn't take her too long to get a song on the charts, and a nice cheque to go along with it.

Mai had begun taking Chloe around with her, too, Paris, Australia, anywhere that her clothes were selling well. It was the quiet nights at home when the three of them would gather at either woman's house and spend their time watching movies—and drinking once Chloe was asleep.

Ali stared at her surroundings, taking them in with a small smile on her lips. Maybe if things had turned out differently, she'd be able to live in Japan like she'd been planning to as a teen. But as things were, she would only be able to visit occasionally and for short amounts of time.

Her fingers grazed against anything they could reach, and she was oblivious to everyone staring oddly at her. She let her hands search for anything that might give her inspiration, there were bands waiting for her to write something for them a small waiting list, even, had formed since her first major song.

"When you're selling your emotions you can't afford to lock them up." Mai said, behind her. Ali turned to look up at her much taller friend.

"And they say I'm the poetic one." Ali said sarcastically.

"I'm serious, Ali…" Mai tried.

"Where is Chloe? Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"She's being watched by one of the room maids. She's out like a light—typical. I went to ask if you felt like taking a walk, but it looks like you beat me to it."

Ali nodded and looked down at the ground she was stepping over. "Feels like re-visiting a demolished house."

"Do you think you'll—"

"No." Ali cut her off, "This isn't _that_ kind of trip."

Mai nodded, not pressing the issue any further. It was an unspoken rule that neither girl would bring up the other's past by force. Not while the issue was so tender, anyway.

"So, what are you working on?" the taller woman asked, motioning at Ali's notebook.

"Nothing, really." The Russian shrugged, "Just some floating around ideas, not much is actually organized yet." She kept her eyes fixed on the sidewalk, her feet, Mai's feet, lamp posts, anything she knew would be safe. After all, they were back in Domino, in Canada she could avoid seeing posters, she never read the magazines, and she hadn't watch cable TV in years.

"Who are you working for?"

"I'm on contract with some huge pop star from Barbados." Ali laughed, "Apparently she's been really huge in North America the past year."

"I think I know who you're talking about. I did a shoot with her." Mai smiled, too. It was always pleasant to know that they were dealing with the same people, especially when Ali's people had always been so far from what Mai surrounded herself with.

"Look at us, all grown up and organizing the lives of other people." Ali sat down on a bench and stared at all the people walking the streets.

Mai sat, too, her cell phone clutched in her hands rather than in her purse. If Chloe called, she wouldn't make the child wait two rings.

"I can't believe it's been five years." Ali smirked, "I feel like a hag."

"Don't worry, you still look sixteen." Mai teased. She often joked that the blonde was doomed to look like a child her whole life.

Ali rolled her eyes and lit a cigarette, letting the smoke billow out from between her lips. "Yeah, I figure I'll write a few really catchy horribly annoying songs, and then retire. Then I can live off of the royalties, you know… like MC Hammer."

"You're goal is to be like MC Hammer?" Mai glanced, worriedly, at her friend.

"More or less," Ali shrugged; "but would you ever let me dress like him?" she laughed. Mai laughed, too.

Mai's phone rang shrilly and she flipped it open and held it to her ear immediately. She spoke for a minute before turning to Ali and covering the mic.

"Chloe's up. I'm going to go try and get her back to sleep, and see if I can pass out, too. Make sure you get some sleep later." She smiled. Ali nodded and watched her friend walk away through the crowd.

The Russian kicked some dirt around with her boots before turning her eyes up to the darkening sky. She held her cigarette lightly between her lips, puffing occasionally as she searched through the pearlescent pink clouds of twilight for inspiration.

Mai was right; she was in the business of selling her emotions. They might appear on the radio or the television as the feelings of whatever musician she sold them to, but when Ali heard one of her songs on the radio she understood it in a way that not even the artist could. For example, what had been an extremely popular ballad thought to be about a relationship, Ali had written about Chloe. The singer had told her fans it was about a boy she loved, but when Ali had written it, it had been for the tiny baby that Mai had made her God Mother of.

She tossed the cigarette, half-smoked onto the ground and opened the notebook on her lap. She tapped her pen against the paper and stared around. Her eyes wandered from the people, to the buildings, then back to the sky line. She craned her neck to stare at the tall buildings surrounding her.

In the distance, above most of the buildings a large silver, Kaiba Corp. logo glinted in the dusk's light. She swallowed, hard, and whipped her neck in the opposite direction so quickly she felt it crack.

Five years ago she had sworn to herself that she would never set foot in the same town as Seto Kaiba, again. Of course, she had been eighteen; she had been lost in her own anger and sadness, too lost to see anyone else's. The Russian sighed, it didn't matter that she now realized how ridiculous she had been. Five years was five years, and when it passed without a call or an apology, she knew she'd blown it.

She still felt hurt and betrayed by the CEO's lies, but if she'd stayed five minutes longer in the New York apartment five years ago, she might have been able to settle it with screams and fighting. Instead, she'd given up and run, just like every other time that something scared her off.

Ali stared down at the paper and let the pen scribble in messy penmanship.

'_Move on, move far away,  
Didn't think I'd be here today,  
Holding my tongue, 'cause there's nothing to say…_'

She sighed and scratched out the writing, whatever inspiration she had hoped to gain from the trip was already proving to be useless. And she knew that the rest of the week would be spent locked in her hotel room, faking sick so that Mai wouldn't drag her out and expose her to the past she couldn't resolve.

**. . .**

"Ali! Your song's on the TV." Chloe shouted, banging on Ali's door. "Ali! Come watch!" she whined.

Ali opened the door and peered down at the little girl; she had been sleeping for three hours and had no desire to wake up. "What?" she yawned.

"Your song is on the TV!" Chloe said excitedly. "Look!" the kid darted past Ali into the room and she turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until music played through the room.

Ali stared at the TV; it was a live show from New York where a band she had written for months ago was playing. She yawned.

"It's not that big a deal, Chloe."

"Yes it is," Chloe objected, "and it's over now…" she whined.

The show cut to some kind of news segment specifically for gossip about the lives of celebrities. Ali rolled her eyes and started to turn away, she hated that so many people's lives revolved around actors, musicians and other famous personalities. But just as she was stepping back to her bed, something caught her ear.

"… and Mokuba Kaiba will be graduating today."

Ali's face swung around so quickly that she felt dizzy for a moment. On the screen was a picture of the school she had met the Kaiba's at years ago. She was disappointed that there wasn't a picture of Mokuba on the screen, but relieved at the same time. She bit her lips and the reporter went on to talk about the ceremony that was taking place that afternoon.

Ali cleared her throat and gave Chloe a generic 'you shouldn't be watching this crap' but even the child heard something off in her voice.

"You're upset?" she asked, worried. She shut off the TV and stepped to her God Mother. "Why?"

"I'm not upset, just sleepy." Ali forced a smile, but she'd never been a good liar when asked directly about something. She lay back down in the bed and stared at the ceiling.

"No, you're upset. You always bite your lip when you're upset."

Ali released the hold that her teeth had on her lip and smiled widely at Chloe, "There I'm not upset anymore, see?"

Chloe's eyes narrowed but she didn't have time to say anything because Mai rushed into the room.

"Good you two are already together." She said quickly, standing in front of the closest mirror and straightening out her pencil-skirted suit. It would have been a conservative outfit, except the skirt was a little shorter than something one would wear to an office, and everything was hot pink. Ali stifled a laugh, Mai would never change for anyone, not for a man, not for her own daughter. The woman turned around, satisfied.

"I have a shoot today, it's last minute." She said quickly, glancing at her watch, "I need you to watch Chloe until dinner."

Ali opened her mouth to object but Chloe cut her off.

"'Kay, I'll be good. Have fun. I love you." She rushed to hug her mother, who embraced her tightly. Ali smirked at how Chloe sometimes seemed like the mother in their relationship.

Chloe waved down to her mother out the window of the hotel before turning back to Ali.

"What are we doing today? Are you going to take me to the candy store?" she asked.

Ali was ruffling through her suitcase, grabbing clothes. "Is that where you want to go?"

Chloe shrugged, "You said they had good candy…"

Ali grinned and stood up with an armful of clothes, "Wait until you try it."

Chloe smiled widely, showing off her small, square baby teeth. She skipped out of the room and across the hall to get dressed, leaving Ali to do the same.

The Russian watched her door click shut, the dropped the false smile from her face. She pulled the oversized t-shirt off and slipped a black sweater on in its place. All the while her mind was still focusing on the fact that Mokuba was graduating.

He would be sixteen, seventeen in a month. Her jaw clenched when she imagined the young boy, grown up. She hadn't even written a letter to let him know that she wouldn't be returning to Japan.

She pulled a pair of worn jeans on and tossed her dirty clothes onto the floor—her cleaning skills hadn't improved in the slightest over the years—and snatched a cigarette from her night stand. She lit it quickly, trying to calm the knotted feeling in her chest. She'd known that the trip would bring some stress along with it, but she hadn't wanted it to be like this.

"This is exactly why I don't fucking watch TV." She growled to herself, pacing aggressively across the carpet. She snatched a brush up and dragged it angrily through her long hair, wincing in pain when it pulled. She caught her face in the mirror and frowned deeply, the hair she'd let grow out hung too low, it seemed. She left it loose and decided to ignore it. The bags under her eyes were more pronounced than they had been the day before, so she snatched a concealing stick from her bag and drew out the lines that would make her look less exhausted than she was.

"Are you putting on make-up?" Chloe's small voice rang from the doorway, "You don't ever wear make-up."

"I'm not." Ali shrugged, stepping back from the mirror and dropping her half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray. She looked at Chloe; the child was wearing a baby blue pinafore dress with white petticoats. Her long hair was hanging in ringlets from under a white wool beret. No one would ever doubt that she was the daughter of a high-fashion designer.

Ali smiled, "Look at you, you pretty little brat." She joked, Chloe smiled widely. "Come on." She snatched her bag and grabbed the child's hand, pulling her from the room and down the hall.

"Why don't you drive?" Chloe asked once they were on the sidewalk, "I don't like walking."

Ali laughed, "Well that's too bad." She shrugged. It wasn't that she was still afraid of driving; she'd gotten over most of her childish fears, now it was just pure habit that stopped her from getting behind the wheel of a car. "You'll need to walk off all the candy you're getting today."

Chloe smiled and cheered, skipping a few steps ahead of Ali. The Russian grinned and watched the child, as she stared around at the city that was so new to her. She watched the people passing, cocking her head as she listened to their unusual language and receiving smiles from almost everyone who laid eyes on her.

Ali trailed closely behind her, letting her explore, but never more than an arms length away. If Chloe was able to put aside the fact that she didn't want to be in Japan, maybe Ali would be able to do the same, too.

**. . .**

Chloe's mouth was stretched into an indestructible smile as she hauled yet another bag of candy into the back of the taxi. Ali had given up on walking after the eleventh candy store, suddenly deciding that Chloe needed to visit every sugar-filled shop in Domino.

"Mom won't let me eat all this." The child laughed, resting her head on Ali's shoulder. Ali laughed, too, knowing that while the girl's mother would sooner see her daughter eat an entire box of sand than all the candy, she would have no reservation on handing it all over to Ali when Chloe wasn't looking.

"You're four; I doubt you even weigh as much as all this candy." Ali said, motioning to the bags that covered the back of the cab. She smiled, knowing that she was able to give the girl such treats. She often swore that if she had known song-writing could pay so well, she would have started in high school. It wasn't a lawyer's salary, but for a twenty-three-year-old who had been struggling to stand on her own feet her whole life, it was a God save.

Chloe shrugged and handed the Russian a grape lolly-pop which she immediately shoved into her mouth. Chloe instructed the cab driver to take them to the next closest candy store, which was as good as gibberish to the man. Ali translated then sat back and stared out the window.

The passing buildings would seem like just a normal city landscape to most people. But Ali was watching intently, remembering how she had fallen on a certain sidewalk, run across the road to beat traffic at a certain corner. She caught a glimpse of the Game Shop she once frequented, and was torn between smiling in the memories, and looking away. The cab turned up a street that she felt that she remembered but couldn't place it.

She stared intently out the window until she finally realized where exactly they were. She didn't even realize that she had let out a long string of curse words in every language she knew, until the driver stopped the car in a hurry and whirled around in his seat to see what was the matter.

"What the fuck, dude?!" she screeched at the poor man, "I can't be here; I said to bring us to the closest candy store!"

"The closest store is around this corner!" the driver sputtered, having no idea what the blonde was hollering about. Chloe stared in shock as her God Mother screeched in Japanese at the cab driver.

"Who are you working for?" Ali asked in a dangerously low voice, "Who told you to take me here? Was it Mai? I will kill her if it was… was it the FBI? They probably want me to be miserable…" she was speaking more to herself now. The poor cabby thought the worst immediately. As a driver in a heavily populated area, he had dealt with mentally unstable people before, and wasn't ready to have his life threatened again.

"You're crazy, lady." The driver said slowly, pulling back to put more distance between himself and the Russian. "You need to get out."

Ali gaped, "What? No!"

"Get out!" the cabby said again, with more force, "I have a gun." He warned.

The Russian kicked his seat childishly and demanded that he keep driving or she would report him to his higher-up.

Ali's elbow hit the curb before she realized what was going on. Chloe was lifted, gently, out of the car by the driver and set next to Ali. The bags of candy flew out also and in a matter of seconds the engine was starting up again.

"Wait, you don't understand!" Ali jumped up and tried to yell over the engine to the driver, "You can't leave me here!"

Her words fell on deaf ears as the cab disappeared around the corner. She sunk down to the sidewalk and buried her head in her hands. It wasn't unusual for her mouth to get her into trouble, but this was a new low. But telling someone that she didn't want to get in trouble she'd managed to get into trouble.

"So much for honesty." She whined.

"Ali…" Chloe tried, slowly, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder.

The Russian couldn't help but smile at the way Chloe pronounced the 'l' in her name with a slight 'w' in it. She could get past the predicament she was in, and the fact they she was sitting on the sidewalk outside of the building that Mokuba Kaiba's graduation ceremony was currently taking place in. She could get past it all with Chloe's little voice.

"Sorry, kid. The cabby was a doorknob. Come on, we'll walk back to the main street and hail another one." She smiled, standing up and gathering the candy. The driver had only unloaded a few of their many bags, but Ali didn't have time to complain. She needed to get away from McWilliams' high school fast.

"No, Ali…" Chloe stopped her, "I have to pee." She squeezed her legs together as if to prove her point. Ali's jaw dropped and she willed it not to be. It was too horribly cliché, the kind of thing that was so perfectly coincidental that it just couldn't be. The kind of thing that Ali's life seemed to revolve around.

"Okay… well let's hurry then." She pulled the kid by the wrist. She halted when Chloe let out a loud wail.

"No! I need to go now! That looks like a school! Let's go there!" she whined, her eyes welling with tears. Ali's heart skipped a beat. Either karma was a bigger bitch than most people let on, or this child was the most inconvenient accessory that existed.

Ali stared from the school to the wriggling child and with a light growl, pulled the hood of her sweater over her head to cover as much of her face as she could. She lifted Chloe and darted around the side of the school to the side exit, knowing that they wouldn't be asked any questions if they went in through that door.

Ali weaved through the halls, knowing her way to the nearest bathroom. She slowed when she reached the gymnasium, she could hear loud music and cheering—of course, McWilliams' was famous for it's prestigious music program—but when she was sure no one would be on the look-out for her, she darted past with Chloe.

The halls were decorated with giant music notes and golden stars, Ali tried to ignore the fact that she must have been right about Mokuba, if he was graduating form the country's number one music program at only sixteen, she had been completely right in assuming he was a prodigy.

She huffed and rounded the last corner, taking Chloe to the washroom. The child immediately objected when she saw the figure marking the door.

"This is a boys' bathroom." She said flatly. "I am not a boy."

"Look, kid, the nearest girls' washroom is four halls away. Do you want to wait that long?"

Chloe stared at her God Mother who held a valid point.

"Don't blame me; the authorities think keeping the bathrooms far apart will prevent teen sex." Ali defended. Chloe nodded and plugged her nose. Immediately, Ali pushed through the door.

Chloe was through the door and into the nearest open stall in seconds. Ali sighed in relief, she'd gotten in undetected, now if she could get Chloe to crawl out the bathroom window with her, they wouldn't need to worry about getting out.

She heard the sound of someone vomiting in the only other closed stall, and wrinkled her nose. Either it was a kid with stage fright, or a kid who had stayed up partying the night before his big day. Either way, she felt immensely bad for the graduate, having been in both situations.

Chloe was humming softly—probably trying to drown out the sound of whoever was spilling their guts—and Ali recognized it as the song she had written for the child. The 'love' song that had gotten her a career and she smiled. Even in the most irritating of situations, Chloe could warm her heart (even if she was the reason they were in the situation). Although had sworn off children the day she saw Mai go into labour, she wouldn't mind a kid like Chloe.

Chloe's toilet flushed and she skipped out with a grossed out look on her face. "Boys are dirty, I don't think they ever wash."

Ali rolled her eyes, "You have a serious hygiene fixation." She said quietly. The vomiting had stopped and she didn't want to draw attention to herself. Chloe took the hint and washed her hands in silence.

Just as Ali was drying the child's hands with paper towels, she heard the sick person's stall click open, and she snuck a glimpse, hoping she could guess which one of her 'reason's teens puke at graduation' theories were correct. But her eyes met an entirely different sight than the geek or party-boy she had expected.

Ali was on her knees, holding Chloe's hands in hers, covered in paper towel, but her actions froze when she realized what she was looking at.

Beneath protruding cheek bones and flushed—from vomiting—cheeks, heaving like air was denying him, was Seto Kaiba. Ali tried to look away, but all the years of never once seeing his face, never on a magazine, never on the TV, rushed back. All the small shocks that she would have endured by just flipping through the pages of a teen-magazine, or just turning on the TV for five minutes, all of it hit her like a brick wall. Especially the fact that he was thinner and paler than ever.

She whirled her face around, still unseen by the CEO and continued on with Chloe's hands. She heard the clicking of his dress shoes and the 'woosh' of his trench coat, as he stepped past her and to the sink. She had never been more thankful for hoods in her life.

It was only when she heard the familiar rattling of pills in a bottle that she stole another glance at the man, this time through the mirror. He shoved a few pills into his hand and then washed them down with a handful of water. His eyes were staring blankly into space as he did it, not noticing Ali.

The vibrant blue contrasted even more with his white skin than it had before. His hair, once so full of undertones and overtones, seemed flat in colour now. She couldn't help but imagine a small creature taking bites out of him; it certainly looked like he was being eaten alive by something.

"My hands are dry now." Chloe said, irritated that Ali was still rubbing them with the coarse towel.

It was such an innocent remark, but in that moment Seto had looked down, faster than Ali could look away from him and hide behind the shelter of her hood. She felt his eyes graze against her face as she struggled to hide it. She muttered something to Chloe and scooped the child up into her arms, quickly making for the exit.

Just as she was stepping through the door, she couldn't help but let her eyes wander behind her.

Seto was staring blankly in her direction, neither recognition nor acknowledgement in his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat, the emptiness of the way he stared made the breath hitch in her throat, she didn't know if she should worry about being discovered, or being forgotten.

She couldn't leave the washroom fast enough, running with Chloe in her arms all the way down the hall and to the nearest street where she could hail a cab. Nothing anyone said to her reached her brain, because it was plastered with the image of Seto Kaiba, pupils dilated, throwing up at his own brother's graduation ceremony.

Even if he hadn't recognized her, it was more shocking when she realized how she had hardly recognized him.


	2. Shredded Whole

**Fall Back to Life**

**Chapter: **2

**Title: **Shredded Whole

**Fiction Rated: **R, it's still all about the mature themes, and adult humour. Now with added sexual content, drug abuse, self mutilation and half the calories. Always fresh, never from frozen.

**Disclaimer: **If I ever came to own an empire, I'd probably be too lazy to keep it in the spotlight and everyone would forget about it. So—although I'm sure there are a few of you who wouldn't mind seeing Ali animated—be thankful that _Takahashi Kazuki_ hasn't handed any rights over to me. I own Ali, though, and look what a loser she is.

**Summary:** Five years is a long time, it's long enough for a family to be torn apart, and a new one to form. It is enough time to learn to live, or to wait for death. In five years you can discover who you really are, and decide whether or not you like it. Unfortunately five years is also long enough to deep-root a grudge, rot a broken heart, and rebuild walls that were beginning to fall.

* * *

Ali bit down on what remained of her thumbnail, regardless of how often Mai and Chloe pestered her about it, it was a habit she couldn't break. Her eyes stung with moisture when she chewed too far and the metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth.

Mai's long nails tapped softly on the small table of the hotel room that the two of them were seated at. Chloe was asleep, breathing softly across the room. It was too early in the morning for the child to be awake, and in retrospect Mai and Ali should have been in bed as well. But both blondes were sitting, quietly, staring blankly around the room.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mai asked after another five minutes of silence, she ignored the way her friend was practically devouring her own hand. Chloe had told her mother what had happened the day before, how Ali had run with her away from the strange, ill man in the bathroom. Of course Mai had known exactly who she was talking about, there weren't many people Ali felt compelled to run from.

"Talk about what? Talk about how fucked up everything is?" Ali asked her voice bitter. "Talk about the million feelings I didn't even know I could feel until yesterday?" she reached down and yanked a can of beer from the six pack she'd brought into Mai's room. It had been chilled at one point, but now it was lukewarm and she couldn't have cared less. Her dark eyes stared toward Mai, "Is it in the media?"

Mai shook her head. If there had been any reports of Seto Kaiba being sick, she would have told her friend, whether or not Ali wanted to hear it. "Do you think he's sick?"

Ali let out a disgusted snort, "I wouldn't be surprised, but sick people have a presence, this wasn't cancer."

Mai nodded, understanding completely. She watched her friend administer a shot of insulin into her hip and toss the needle back into her bag.

"I think I'm going to go home." She said after a moment. Mai's eyes widened.

"You're leaving?" she asked, shocked.

"I'm not going to stay here and risk seeing that again, Mai, you don't understand… it was death on legs. I'll catch a flight in a few hours."

Mai's eyebrows folded in anger, "You've lost your essence." She said.

"Excuse me?"

"A few years ago you would have run to his house and slapped him into sanity; you wouldn't have walked away without conquering the challenge."

Ali glared daggers at her friend, "Look, I've already lost my share of people, I'm not going to waste my time getting attached to another one so I can lose him, too." She snapped, finished her beer and crushing the can in her hand before tossing it at a nearby waste basket. It missed by a foot.

"Well I miss the girl who trusted blindly and jumped through hoops for the people she loved." Mai said lowly, standing up and walking to her sleeping daughter. She laid a hand on the child's forehead and kissed her cheek before returning to Ali.

"If I stay here, I'll lose my mind." The Russian said sadly, "I won't able to get it out of my head. If I leave, and avoid hearing anything else for a few more years maybe I'll just fall back into comfortable apathy." She shrugged.

"That's a healthy way to live." Mai said sarcastically.

"At least it's living."

The girls were interrupted by a knock at the door. Mai rolled her eyes, knowing that only her assistant and publicist ever showed up so early without a phone call, and since her publicist was in another country, it could only be the assistant she had hired for the week.

"One minute." She sighed, hoisting herself up from the table and heading to the door.

Ali pulled a stray sting on her orange pyjama pants; she chewed her lip in thought. If she left Japan that morning, she would be home by evening. Or she could head straight to New York and meet up with a songwriter she had been collaborating with on a particular project. That would be sure to take her mind of things for a while.

A light cough pulled her out of her thought and she glanced up to see if Mai needed her for something.

A pair of slate blue eyes stared into hers, and she felt her heart swell. It was as if someone had poured uncomfortable warmth into her veins and she felt nervous, guilty, and in love with what she saw.

Mokuba had changed as much—if not more so—as she had imagined. His face had lost much of its boyish roundness and the perfect cheekbones that she had always known he would inherit defined his otherwise soft features.

Ali barely caught sight of Mai pulling Chloe into her arms and leaving the room with her, probably heading down to Ali's room to leave the two alone.

Ali tried to swallow, but her throat felt drier than cotton. Seto, she could deal with seeing because guilt wasn't a factor. But she knew how she had betrayed Mokuba, swearing to him that she would never leave him and then just disappearing.

"You're back." he said, his voice was grown up, but still so soft and warm, if not for the cutting, bitter edge, she would have smiled.

"Mokie…" Ali felt her eyes well up; she stood up and found herself over a head shorter than the teen, who had been just a child when they had last met.

"Don't call me that." He whispered dryly, his eyes were as close to angry as she had ever seen them.

Acting on instinct, she reached up and ran a hand over his hair; he'd never grown out of wearing it long. It hung over his thin shoulders, making him look like a supersized version of the boy she'd left behind. He caught her hand and stared at her for a moment before pulling her face into his chest. Ali bit her lip, hard, and let the tears spill over her cheeks and onto his shirt.

"Fuck Mokuba, I'm so sorry." She sobbed, her knees gave out and before she realized it they were sitting on the floor, Mokuba's arms around her while she cried. "I fucked up."

"You did." He confirmed, but he squeezed her tighter and his voice softened, contradicting his words.

They sat for a long time before Ali's eyes cut off the flow and she pushed herself back from his chest. "Look at you; I can't believe I missed it all…"

"Where have you been?"

"Canada. I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have written, I should have called, I shouldn't have left you."

Mokuba's eyes studied her face, taking in every change, though she hadn't changed nearly as much as he had. Aside from the tired complexion, she looked like the same girl he had known as an eleven-year-old.

"You lied to me."

"I lied to myself." She admitted, hanging her head and staring at her hands, palm-down on the wood floor.

"Your hair is longer." He pointed out, touching a strand of the long blonde mess.

Ali rested her cheek against his shoulder and breathed in the too-familiar scent of gardenia. She had never imagined herself being comforted like this by the boy, but she didn't care at the moment. She hugged him around his shoulders.

"We have a mess to clean up, don't we?" she whispered into his ear, noticing that he'd added a cartilage piercing to the one she had gotten him so long ago. He nodded and she shut her eyes tightly, mentally cancelling her flight. Everything had gone wrong and now she was too far in to jump on a plane home.

Running wasn't an option anymore.

**. . .**

Ali stared down at her latte, the cream and foam had been shaped into a heart on top of the glass. She sighed and dragged a finger through the art, ignoring the hot liquid against her skin.

"How did you find me?" she asked, looking up at Mokuba who sat across the table. They were in the lobby of the hotel, a small booth in the corner keeping them separate from the other visitors. She hadn't bothered to change out of her pyjamas, but didn't care how sloppy she looked in the orange sweat pants and white hoodie.

"I called around to see if you were checked in to any hotels, I knew you would be in town. I haven't seen Seto act like that in years."

Ali felt her chest contract; the thought of the CEO looking so awful wasn't an image she was comfortable with. "Act like what?"

"Like if he were to drink anything but liquor he would die."

"He didn't look well…"

"He's not."

The bluntness of Mokuba's answers made the blonde avert her eyes, he didn't speak to her with the admiration and love that he once had. It didn't feel like she was talking to Mokuba, but a larger, more robotic version of him.

"Mokuba I know you're mad at me…" she sighed, turning her eyes up to study his face in the dull light. He was holding a coffee and staring down into its murky depths but he met her gaze quickly.

"Not mad, Ali, heartbroken, maybe. Furious, with you and with me and with Seto… we all messed up."

Ali's eyes filled it tears which she willed not to fall, she'd cried enough already and it was barely daylight. "You didn't mess up, Mokuba." She objected.

"Yes I did, after you left…" he sighed, "I was so mad at Seto for losing you… I let him crawl back into his shell and gave him time to build more walls."

Ali shook her head, willing her eyes to dry and the boy in front of her to become a child again. "I shouldn't have left."

The raven-haired-teen shrugged, "No, you shouldn't have. But we won't fix anything by regretting the past. We need to focus on now."

The Russian let her tears spill, she tried to hide behind her long hair but she couldn't silent her muffled sobs. Mokuba sounded more like Seto than she had ever wanted. She felt his hand reach across the table and squeeze her wrist tightly; she looked up at him and saw that his eyes were filled with tears also.

"Please, please help us." He whispered. "My family is destroyed."

Seeing Mokuba pleading for help gave Ali the feeling of fire replacing her blood. She nodded, flicking the tears away from her eyes. "Okay, but first I need to know what I've missed."

Mokuba pulled back and gave a small smile, "I graduated from McWilliams' music program with honours and I'm guaranteed a place in W.C University by next year."

Ali bit her lip; looking into the boy's eyes she saw everything that she had wanted for him come to life. "I knew I was right about you." She smiled, "What are you playing these days?"

"Recreationally, everything except percussion," he smiled, knowing that Ali understood his failure at playing drums, "but I'm specialising in violin and piano."

"What about everything else?" Ali wondered, "Are you still living with… your brother?" she asked, determined not to say Seto's name, unsure of whether should could get it past her lips without breaking down.

"I don't think _with_ him is correct term. No one can do anything _with_ him these days. You can do it near him, or next to him, but he's more detached than ever." Mokuba paused, "But yes, I have my own wing."

"And are you still friends with Yugi?"

"The best." Mokuba smiled. "But what about you? What have you been doing?"

"Living in Canada with Mai, and her daughter. Same town as Kanata—you know about everything that happened with Kanata, right?"

Mokuba nodded, "I figured it out eventually."

"Well, I've been watching him grow up. Writing music for mainstream artists," she shrugged, "my life isn't too exciting."

"Mai had a daughter?"

Ali smiled warmly, "Her name is Chloe, she's perfect."

Mokuba saw Ali's face light up at the mention of the child; he recognized the expression as one she used to wear often around him. Like someone had taken a brush and with a few small strokes, painted love across her features.

"Is she married?"

"God no, she's only four." Ali frowned, "I planned for you to be smart, what the hell?"

"I meant Mai." Mokuba rolled his eyes. "I'm assuming since she has a child—"

"Oh no, she hasn't been with anyone since Chloe's dad, but she's not married. Her clothing line is doing really well."

Mokuba nodded, "I've seen the ads, they always have awesome music."

"Thank you." Ali smiled, "That's my stink rubbed all over her advertising."

The teen took a sip of his coffee, "How long are you here for?"

"The week." Ali replied, though she had a feeling that plans might change.

"I want you to stay longer." He said, it wasn't a request. Ali couldn't help but feel it was an ultimatum, either she could stay, or she could prove that she was still the selfish, immature child she'd been five years ago.

She didn't reply, but the way she leaned forward and played with the cuff of Mokuba's sweater said enough. "Tell me what happened." She said after a moment. They both knew what she was asking for.

"It started slow, about eight months after you left; he'd keep more booze around and drink on more occasions." Mokuba started, sighing and propping his face up on his hand, "Soon he starting drinking all the time. No one noticed, of course."

"He could hide the fact that he had arms if he felt compelled to." Ali agreed.

"Then… I guess the alcohol wasn't doing it anymore. I'm not sure but what happened, but after a few months, our doctor refused to treat him anymore. I guess he wasn't comfortable filling all the prescriptions that Seto was asking for."

Ali remembered her few experiences with the CEO's medicine cabinet in the past. "But hasn't he always…?"

"It used to just be anti-anxiety and migraine medication. Now it's narcotics. He's chemically blocking things out."

"Jesus," Ali exclaimed in a whisper, "how's Kaiba Corp.?"

"Thriving." Mokuba said bitterly, "No one would even guess that he's strung out all the time."

Hearing the boy talk about his older brother—his hero, through his life—in such a way pained Ali. A pain that she didn't even know existed until it hit her square in the heart. She coughed lightly; her lungs were aching for a deep hit of nicotine.

"Come on, I need to get dressed." She sighed, standing up and leaving her untouched latte on the table as Mokuba dropped a few bills onto the table for the server. They left the lobby's café silently, the teen walking next to Ali but not looking directly at her.

Once they were in Ali's room, she grabbed the first clothes she could reach out of her suitcase and threw them on while Mokuba stared out the window. Once she was wearing a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a green wife-beater she joined him.

Mokuba looked her over and smirked, "You lost your baby fat."

Ali frowned playfully, "Oh shut up, I was never fat."

"Maybe not, but you have actual curves now."

"This is Chloe," she said, handing him a wallet-sized photo that she always kept on hand. It was a snapshot of Chloe smiling in the park she'd taken only a few months ago.

Mokuba gasped, his eyes widening, "She looks like—"

"Yeah," Ali nodded, "but she has her mom's hair."

Mokuba toyed with a stray lock of his hair, "Does he…?"

"No."

"Will he?"

Ali shrugged; it was delicate subject, she and Mai rarely spoke of it, and Chloe had never asked. "I don't really think so. She's doing well enough on her own."

The teen nodded, "How did everything go so wrong?" he wondered aloud, staring through the window to the street below, "It wasn't supposed to end up like this."

"I think we all had plans that went too far into the future and left out the possibility of failure." She agreed, laying her head against his shoulder, his arm came up around her and she wished, for a moment, that he was still small so she could be the one to hold him.

"Life's a bitch." He agreed.

"And then you die."

**. . .**

"Wow," Ali muttered, "well at least this place hasn't changed." She stared at the game shop through the window of Mokuba's car as he pulled up to the curb.

At first, she had been reluctant—downright refusing, actually—to get into a car with him. Knowing that Seto's driving had always been dangerous and, at times, life-threatening. Of course, eventually she'd sucked it up, and learned that it wasn't a genetic trait.

"Yeah, Mr. Motou hates change; I think it'll stay the same until he dies." Mokuba chuckled lightly.

Ali stepped out onto the sidewalk; the warm wind lifted her hair and let it fly around her head. She smoothed it down, nervously. If Mokuba and Yugi were best friends, as he had said, then the boy was sure to have vented some of his feelings about Ali to Yugi. The last thing she wanted was the too-kind kid she remembered looking at her with contempt.

Mokuba stepped through the front door of the shop, followed by Ali. The interior had stayed the same as she remembered, aside from a new array of products; it felt like she'd been sucked into a time warp.

"Yugi," Mokuba called, leaning over the glass counter.

Ali's eyes widened as she watched him, when he leaned forward, the tight black t-shirt he wore pulled up exposing the skin of his back. He was thin, like his brother, but in a much healthier looking fashion.

"What is _that_?" she gasped, interested by the black design that caught her eye.

Mokuba looked confused until he noticed her pointing at his lower back, jaw hanging slack. He smirked and turned back around, lifting the hem of his shirt for her to observe.

Ali got closer and leaned down and inspecting the design. A perfectly symmetrical pattern swirled along his tailbone, it looked abstract but Ali discovered upon closer inspection, that it was several vines twisting amongst each other.

"Holy shit, when did you get this?" she asked, having a hard time believing that Seto would have allowed Mokuba to do something as wild as getting a tattoo.

"A few weeks ago," he answered, craning his neck to look back at her, still staring at the ink.

"It's nice, but… how did you…?"

Mokuba shrugged, "He doesn't know, and he doesn't talk much anyway. I doubt he'd even bring it up if he noticed.."

Ali frowned; she couldn't imagine Seto being ignorant to anything in his little brother's life. It didn't fit; he loved the kid more than anything in his life. More than his life. She decided it couldn't be true, willing Seto to have retained some of the passion he'd once had.

"Oh…" Yugi stepped out from the back of the shop, eyes wide when he saw Mokuba hunched over with a girl face level with his best friend's ass.

"Hi Yugi." Ali stood straight and willed her voice to come out confident. She wondered for a flitting moment when she'd become such a nervous person, she'd always been so confident. But she let it pass, knowing that she needed to be sure of herself.

"Ali?" he asked slowly, looking from his friend to the girl and back again, "Is that you?"

"In the flesh." She said with a phony smile, "Who else do you know who looks this hot." She felt satisfied enough with the feigned confidence.

Yugi stared at Mokuba, eyes wary. Ali took the moment to look him over. He still wasn't very tall, probably around her height. But he was just as thin as Mokuba, and seemed to dress in equally tight clothes. His hair was still as wild, styled to make him look a little taller than he really was.

"She flew over with Mai," Mokuba said, sounding as though meeting up with the girl who had abandoned him was the most natural thing in the world, "I'm hoping she'll stay a while."

Ali nodded shortly, letting the teen know that she wouldn't ignore his hopes again. "You look good Yugi, how old are you now?"

"Twenty," Yugi said his voice still unsure of how to react in the situation. "You look good, too…"

Ali smiled, "Did you have anything to do with Mokuba getting that ink on his back?" her eyes narrowed in false suspicion. She wasn't sure how she really felt about the tattoo. Sure, she'd forced him to get his ear pierced at twelve, but she'd been out to spite Seto back then. She felt the same motherly protectiveness for Mokuba as she felt for Chloe, and couldn't help but think he was growing up too fast. Sixteen was too young for permanent body art. Though, in retrospect, she couldn't really say anything about it without being hypocritical.

Yugi smirked, "Maybe."

"He did the design," Mokuba explained, "but the idea and the decision was mine."

Ali nodded, looking around the shop again. Her eye caught one of the videogames in a 'featured' section. Well, what caught her eye was the Kaiba Corp. logo it bore, but she tried to play like it wasn't a factor when she moved to pick it up.

On the cover of the case was a world that looked as though it had been carved from tar, long plains of sticky black, almost resemble a thick sea. There were bones, still covered in rotting flesh, scattered across the ground. It looked like a graveyard in Hell.

She didn't even realize that her nose was wrinkled at the image, "What is this?" she asked.

Mokuba looked at Yugi, almost asking for support of some kind. "That's one of Seto's more… morbid games. It just came out last week and it's already banned from most chain stores."

"That's awful." Ali said, looking at the raven-haired teen.

He shrugged, "Not really, it's gotten the company a load of publicity and more teens are buying the game than ever. It just makes us wonder what's been going on in his head." Yugi nodded, making Ali realize that he was part of the 'us' Mokuba had referred to.

She dropped the game back on the rack and found herself wondering about something she hadn't thought about in years, "What happened with Tea?"

"She's in New York, attending one of the top dance schools." Yugi said. Ali wished she'd been to see a show when in New York, just top see if she had been right about Tea ending up as a complete knock-out.

"Tristan?"

"He's training as a police officer." Mokuba answered this time. There was a brief silence before Ali dared to ask.

"Joey?"

Mokuba understood her reluctance, but Yugi went ahead and answered. "He opened a little restaurant, he's doing well."

Ali nodded, filing away the information in the back of her mind, but knowing she wouldn't be bringing it up in the near future. She smiled and gave some on-the-spot congratulations to Yugi for keeping the game shop in such good shape, but her mind was in knots over the disturbing imagery that was Seto's latest production.

"Where's your grandpa?" she asked when she realized she'd stopped talking midsentence and both boys were staring at her.

"Out of town at a gaming expo." Yugi replied, a customer stepped in the store and he left Ali and his friend alone to go assist the stranger.

"You two seem pretty close." She observed.

Mokuba shrugged, "Pretty close, he's been there for me when no one else was."

Ali bit her tongue, hoping that soon the teen would forgive her, or stop throwing her on guilt trips at the very least. He must have picked up on her sadness because he put an arm around her shoulder, not apologizing, but letting her know that even through being angry he still cared about her.

"So…" she started, knowing full well that Mokuba had more planned for the day than a small trip down memory lane.

"Do you want to see him?" he asked bluntly, Yugi was checking the customer through the cash but his eyes occasionally flitted to the pair.

Ali turned to look the Mokuba in the eyes. "No." she said, it was the honest answer. She would rather have sawed her own arm off than see Seto looking so sick and empty. "But that doesn't change the fact that I need to."

The teen nodded and went to talk to Yugi while Ali made her way to the sixteen-year-old's black mustang. She stopped on the sidewalk and lit a cigarette from her bag. Leaning against a parking meter she tried to pull all her inner strength out, knowing that she would need every last bit of it to look Seto in the eyes for one moment.

"I was hoping you'd quit that." Mokuba said, joining her outside and motioning to the cigarette in her hand.

"Me too," she said biting her lip. She took another lungful of the calming drug and stomped it out on the sidewalk, "but I've cut down." She slid into the passenger seat while the teen started the vehicle.

"We'll go to my house." He explained. Ali nodded, staring out the window and wishing half-heartedly that she had stayed in Canada.

They drove quietly, listening to the radio. Mokuba started to sing along with one of the songs and Ali smirked.

"This is mine."

"What is?"

"The song."

Mokuba smiled, "It's one of my favourites right now. What's it about?" he asked. It was the type of piece that anyone could relate to their own personal experience but no one knew what had been going on in the composer's head.

'_Pretty close,  
Touch and go, stay alone  
Pretty low,  
Running fast, running home.'_

Ali shrugged, "You, I guess."

"I've never had a number one song written about me." He grinned.

Ali laughed softly, "Well if you keep dressing like that, you'd better get used to it." Mokuba laughed, too.

"Too sexy?"

"Just sexy enough." She winked, jokingly. The smile left her face when they pulled into the long driveway of the Kaiba manor. She felt the blood drain from her cheeks and she sucked in all the breath she could. She lifted her chin and mustered all her confidence, willing it to fool even Seto who had known her so well.

They walked in quietly, Mokuba dropped his keys on the table next to the door and Ali kicked her unlaced combat boots into the closet. The cool marble surface of the floor touched her feet and she looked to the raven-haired boy for encouragement.

"You need to go in alone." He said, pointing in the direction of Seto's office. Ali nodded, knowing that whatever she needed to say, would be best unheard by Mokuba.

She took a step away but turned back to look at him, "Do you know why I left?" she asked.

Mokuba looked her in the face, "I know that something good happened between you and my brother in New York, and I know that something awful must have happened to overrule that."

Ali bit her lip; at least he didn't blame her. At least he didn't think she had left only on her own accord. She nodded and continued stepping quietly through the foyer. Once she was in the living room she slowed her pace, willing time to freeze and not take her into the same room as the CEO again.

"Well Miss Ali, never thought I'd see you here again." Roswell stepped around the corner, holding a bottle of water.

"Me neither," she admitted, "I can't believe you're still working here."

"Someone has to fetch Master Kaiba his water," the man joked lightly, "You look lovely. Still a ratty street kid, but a lovely one."

Ali smirked; it was as close to a real compliment as he had ever given her.

"You can take it to him." The old man said, handing her the water bottle, "Use it as a weapon if you must."

Ali watched Roswell slip back around the corner and took a final breath. She approached the door to Seto's office and, without knocking—it would be too unnatural to knock—she opened the door slowly.

Seto was at his desk, staring at his computer screen, typing with one hand and filling out a chart with another. He didn't look up at her, and if he noticed someone else in the room, he didn't show it.

She stared at him, the shock of his face after all the years still just as strong. He looked as tired as a man could be, but a mug of steaming coffee was at arm's length. In just a turtle neck she could see the bones in his shoulders moving as he wrote, even his collar bone jutted out under the material.

"I have your water." She said, her voice didn't shake as much as it would have if she hadn't tried to keep it steady, but it wasn't as calm as she wanted. It was a stupid thing to say after five years, and she knew it, but nothing else seemed to fit in the situation.

Seto stopped working and looked up at her, or through her, she couldn't tell. His eyes looked duller than they had, still a shockingly vibrant shade of blue, but nothing compared to what they had been.

She sighed and pulled a large oak chair across the room and set it in front of his desk, setting the water down in front of him. She sat down in the chair, pulling her feet up under her and trying to keep up the façade of the girl she had been five years ago when interrupting Seto's work was perfectly natural.

He didn't touch the water and didn't return to working, he only watched her movements with the interest of someone watching paint dry.

"Your skin looks like milk." She said quietly, it was true. It looked like someone had painted over his body with white-out.

No reply, no acknowledgement, no movement.

"Say something."

Seto blinked slowly and turned his eyes back to the computer, checking over the data he was working on. Ali looked around the room; it was the same as ever with the addition of a new table next to the bookshelf. The table was covered in wires and other devices she didn't recognize.

"I heard the good news, Mokuba got into W.C.U, that's quite a feat for a sixteen-year-old." She tried to let her words flow, feeling the need to break the deafening silence in the room.

"Why are you here?" Seto asked, quietly, keeping his eyes on the computer screen and entering a few numbers to his chart.

"Because I have to be, look at you."

"I don't want you here."

"Neither do I, but we can't always get what we want." She said, her tone was cutting and she knew it. It was like talking to a wall and she had to wear down the bricks.

Seto's eyes turned to her and a light crease next to his jaw was all that gave away his anger, "You got what you wanted."

Ali blinked in surprise, not understanding what the remark meant. If anything, she had wound up with nothing she wanted. She had a life that she enjoyed, but it was different from what she had wanted. It was mundane; there wasn't as much excitement as she had always dreamed of.

"Don't talk to me like that," she snapped, "how much have you had to drink today?"

Seto's eyes narrowed, "You have no right to ask me that."

"Don't tell me what my rights are, you look like Hell." She said, keeping her shoulders square and her eyes heated.

Seto stood up, he snatched the water off the desk and yanked a drawer open. He pulled an orange prescription bottle out and pried it open, dropping two pills into his palm. Ali sat and watched as he chased the pills down with a sip of the water, his movements were robotic. She wanted to slap the medication out of his hands, but she needed to play this the right way.

She knew Seto, and she knew that being dependent on anything or anyone was a weakness in his eyes.

"What are you taking these days?" she asked as casually as she could, pulling the bottle off the desk. Seto made a move to snatch it from her, but she was too quick.

"Darvon, huh?" she shrugged, "Pretty intense, but I'm guessing that's not all you've been popping, is it?"

Seto growled and snatched the bottle from her hand, shoving it back in the drawer. He sat down, seeming determined to ignore the blonde no matter how hard she tried to get under his skin. Ali knew she'd hit a nerve, just as she'd expected addiction wasn't something Seto would ever admit to and nothing he would ever be proud of.

"What else? A little Valium from time to time? No, not you… you're too functional to be taking twelve hour naps." She gave a fake hum of thoughtfulness, "Dextroamphetamine, right? Darvon for the numbness and dextroamphetamine for the speed?"

Seto's eyes shot to her for a moment, before returning to his work though it was clear that his concentration had been broken.

"I've been prescribed my medicine from a doctor." He said calmly.

Ali shrugged, "Sure if I was as powerful as you I'd be able to get any drug with a snap of my fingers, too. But why not save yourself a step," she pulled a small black book out of her bag, "let me get you my old dealer's number. Heroin and meth have the same effects, plus they have some added fun and they work faster."

Seto's knuckles turned white as he gripped his pen and pressed it to the paper.

"Come on Seto; don't fool yourself, if you're going to be a junkie, do it the right way. You've never done anything else half-assed, why start now? Besides, they'll kill you faster and that way Mokuba won't have to wonder everyday if you're finally going to have a heart attack, or maybe overdose."

She'd hit exactly what she wanted to hit and she knew it immediately when Seto's eyes locked with hers. He stood up from the chair and leaned across the desk, his hands planted firmly on the wood. Ali was glad that she couldn't physically feel the ice his eyes were shooting at her, or she'd have been frozen.

"Get out of my home." He said, bringing his face close to hers and hoping that he could intimidate her and cut the fearless look from her features.

"This is a house, not a home."

"Off my property." He ignored her stinging words.

"You're dying." She didn't let her face give away the agony she was feeling to see Seto mad at her again. She didn't let her hands cup his face like they were longing to, affection was weakness to Seto and right now he needed her to be strong, to be fearless.

"Stay away from my family."

"Your family? Seto, you swallowed your family along with the drugs, when was the last time you hugged your brother? Told him you love him?"

"You don't know anything." His voice was escalating, now.

"I know that you're fucked up, and I know that you need help."

"I don't need your help. I don't need anything."

"Then give me the pills." She held her hand out, knowing full well that the CEO would not surrender anything to her. She'd dealt with addicts before—hell, she'd been one—and he was no where near surrendering anything.

"Get out of my house now, or—"

"Or what?" she asked, bringing her face closer so that they were nose-to-nose, "Or you'll hit me?" she glanced at his shaking fist, knowing that he wanted to—and internally wondering if he was far gone enough to actually do it. "Go ahead," she pointed to her cheek, turning her head to the side to give him a better view, "go ahead, you're enough like Gozaburo already, why not take the last step."

She knew it was too much, but caught up in the heat of the moment she had lost control. Seto didn't need to be coddled out of his state, but being firm and being hostile were very different and she'd crossed the line. For a moment he stared at her then he smashed his fist against the desk and stormed out of the room. She heard the front door slam and heard a set of tires skid down the road.

And she let her breath out; it came out in a sob immediately. And her face was streaked with tears in seconds. For a moment she had truly thought that Seto was going to hit her, Seto, _Seto_, the man she'd never been afraid of in her life. Someone who she had once loosely considered a friend, and harbored heated feelings for.

She'd compared him to the one person _he_ feared, and she knew it. Even if he'd never told her, she knew enough. She'd read every book on the original Kaiba a few years ago, she knew everything there was to know. He was a raging alcoholic, violent, and though it was never proven, there were a few documented theories that he was a child abuser. Ali knew it was a proven theory, Seto's eyes had told her years ago.

She barely heard Mokuba rush in and pull her into his arms, she cried against his chest and felt a few hot tears fall into her hair from his eyes. She grasped his arms and squeezed tightly, still not wanting to be the one who was comforted, she brushed his hair through her fingers and tried to soothe him any way she could.

"This isn't going to be easy…" she sobbed into his ea.

"But you'll try."

"Fuck trying, I'll succeed. Just give me time." She promised, squeezing the last tears from her eyes. There wasn't time for crying; surely there would be enough of that later, because despite her promise and the confidence in her voice, she couldn't save Seto if he couldn't be saved. And she'd known more addicts that died than lived, in her lifetime.

* * *

**Darvon is a narcotic and ****dextroamphetamine is essentially the same as meth, but legal. Sorry about the lack of humour, but it's bad times for these guys right now, things will get lighter eventually. But if you're expecting me to crank out twenty 'lol' worthy jokes a chapter, you might be disappointed.  
**

**If everyone reviews I won't make Seto die next chapter. Do not doubt my power as authoress.**

**Mahalo,  
KC!**


	3. Caught Asleep

**Fall Back to Life**

**Chapter: **3

**Title: **Caught Asleep

**Fiction Rated: **R, it's still all about the mature themes, and adult humour. Now with added sexual content, drug abuse, self mutilation and half the calories. Always fresh, never from frozen.

**Disclaimer: **If I ever came to own an empire, I'd probably be too lazy to keep it in the spotlight and everyone would forget about it. So—although I'm sure there are a few of you who wouldn't mind seeing Ali animated—be thankful that _Takahashi Kazuki_ hasn't handed any rights over to me. I own Ali, though, and look what a loser she is.

**Summary:** Five years is a long time, it's long enough for a family to be torn apart, and a new one to form. It is enough time to learn to live, or to wait for death. In five years you can discover who you really are, and decide whether or not you like it. Unfortunately five years is also long enough to deep-root a grudge, rot a broken heart, and rebuild walls that were beginning to fall.

* * *

Mokuba shut the door to Ali's hotel room quietly. It was early evening and she'd had enough of re-seeing her old home, and how it had changed. Sighing, she pulled a sweater on over her shirt and collapsed onto the bed. Mokuba sat next to her, pulling his feet up and resting his head against the headboard.

"Ali?" he asked quietly. He'd been nice to her all day, and she was still thankful that although he might not have completely forgiven her, he didn't blame her entirely for everything that was happening.

"Yeah?" she let her eyes close and relaxed against the soft blankets.

"Did they ever find your brother?"

Ali bit her lip and let her eyes flutter open for a moment to look at the teen. He wasn't looking at her, but staring around the room instead.

"Yes." She said, "Two months ago."

Mokuba turned to her, laying his head on the pillow next to her. He read her voice, and immediately understood the rest, but she said it anyway.

"They found his body and the funeral was a few weeks ago."

She didn't expect it, but Mokuba wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest. They lay still, just relishing in the feeling of having each other close again. Her fingers curls around his shoulders and she breathed deeply, letting the gardenia smell overtake her senses, it had been a long day and all she wanted was sleep but she stayed awake, fearing that the moment she closed her eyes Mokuba would be gone.

The door creaked open and Chloe peeked through, "Ali, you're back."

Ali sat up slowly, smiling when her eyes met the young child's. "Yep." She patted the bed, indicating that Chloe should climb up. After a wary glance at the raven-haired teen, she did so, laying her head on Ali's knees.

"Where were you today?" she asked, keeping her eyes on Mokuba, "Who's that?"

"That's Moki—" she stopped herself, Mokuba hadn't wanted her to use the affectionate nickname, keeping it reserved for those closest to him. She bit her lip, "Mokuba, he's my old student." She forced a smile.

Chloe's eyes danced over the teens features and Mokuba stared back at her, leaning close after a moment.

"You have very pretty eyes, Chloe." He said in a friendly tone. The blue peeking through the brown topaz in areas shone brightly in the low light.

"Thanks, you have nice hair." She said politely, smiling widely, her small square teeth sparkling.

Ali sighed and ran a hand through the long blonde curls atop Chloe's head. Her own hair was still loose, hanging to her elbows limply. "What did you get up to today?"

"Mommy took me to a photo shoot," she said excitedly, "I got to get my picture taken with a puppy." She grinned widely.

Ali giggled, no matter how many times the kid got to take part in her mother's work, she was just as thrilled every time.

"Anyway," the girl started, "I just came to say g'night, I have to go sleep now." She kissed Ali on the nose and waved to Mokuba as she skipped out of the room.

"She's a good kid," Mokuba said, "beautiful, too."

Ali nodded and rested her head on his shoulder, "Just like you were."

"You're tired."

"I'm not that tired."

"Go to sleep." Mokuba pressed, "I'll stay until you're asleep."

"No," Ali whined, "Don't go."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Mokuba promised, "I'll leave my cell number on the nightstand."

Ali opened her mouth to protest, but Mokuba hushed her and she was too tired to argue anymore. She didn't want him to be gone when she woke up, but her mind wasn't strong enough to put a fight up against weeks of sleepless nights. She felt her body growing more and more distant as she drifted off.

**. . .**

Ali woke up the next morning, clutching her pillow into her chest and inhaling, it still smelled soothingly like gardenias. The sunlight was peering through the open curtains and across the floor. She sat up carefully, glancing at the bedside table where a piece of paper with a number written in red marker sat.

She sighed, knowing once and for all that the day before had not been a dream—a nightmare. It had been real, she was still in Japan, Seto was still a mess, and Mokuba was still healing his relationship with her.

The Russian stepped off the bed and immediately pulled her clothes off walking, naked to the bathroom on the other side of the room. She couldn't wait to wash the feeling of having Seto mad at her away. The hot water poured over her back, and she stood still, letting it turn her skin pink while she scrubbed it raw. She leaned against the cool granite wall in the shower and closed her eyes, pressing her lips together.

It seemed like the image of thin, distant Seto was seared onto the back of her eye lids. When he was leaning of her desk, fist clenched, and she had been ready and willing for him to strike her.

Sighing, she turned the water off and shook her hair out, running a comb through it to relieve her head of the knots brought on by sleeping. Back in the main room she threw a light blue tank top, and a pair of cut-off jean shorts on and lit a cigarette. She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment, seeing someone who had matured over the years. She smiled, and noticed how worn she looked, like everything was taking a toll on her.

Her brother's funeral had been a long-overdue affair; she'd been ready for it since her early teenage years. Of course, that didn't change that fact that having everything brought back had been hard. And now, so soon afterward she was dealing with a whole other set of equally painful issues.

She grabbed her bag, and locked her room shut behind her, still holding her cigarette between her fingers. She knocked on Mai's door. The woman wouldn't let Chloe in the same room as a cigarette, yet they had requested a room next to Ali's, on a smoking floor. She rolled her eyes; sometimes her friend could be irrational.

No one answered, and when she checked the clock on the wall of the hallway, she realized that it was already past nine in the morning. Sighing she dropped the half-smoked cigarette onto the floor and stomped it out.

A throat cleared behind her and she turned around. A man stood, staring unimpressed at the cigarette she had just put out on the carpet. A name tag and position title let her know that he was one of the security men.

"We don't allow _that_." He pointed at the black ashes on the floor, staring at Ali. She toyed with a strand of her long wet hair and sighed. Ali found it odd that he spoke to her in Japanese, especially since she didn't look like she was from the country; most staff generally approached her in English. But she didn't think of it for long.

"Whatever, you have maids."

"Excuse me?" he raised and eyebrow.

"I said you have maids," she turned on her heel and took a step away, only to be stopped by a strong hand around her arm. "Let me go." She hissed angrily.

"We don't tolerate such behaviour, ma'am."

Ali frowned; she was twenty-three and still being treated like a kid. "Okay, douche bag," she struggled against his grip but lost, "let me go or I'll call your boss."

"I'm sure he'll agree with me."

Ali screeched and stomped on his foot as hard as she could. The guard hissed in pain when her steel-toed boots ground against his unarmored shoes. "Let me go you creep." She struggled in his grip. It wasn't making sense anymore; security guards didn't make such a fuss over such tiny things.

In less time than it took her to blink, she was smacked against the wall, she could feel a bruise beginning to form across her back, but was more concerned with the breath that had been knocked out of her. She tried desperately to draw air into her lungs, and failed for a few attempts before she managed to retain oxygen.

When the man released her, she fell to her knees breathing heavily and stared up at him in confusion.

"If you go near Mr. Kaiba again, I can assure you I will do worse. I suggest you go back home." He growled, leaving her on the floor and panting he sauntered down the hall.

Ali's eyes stung when she put together what had just happened. Seto had tipped a security guard to assault her, to scare her, and it hadn't been an empty threat. He was serious about not wanting her around, and he was taking drastic measures to prove it.

Pulling her knees up her chin she let out a strangled sob as she tried to stifle the sound and keep her tears under her eyelids.

Seto Kaiba had put her in danger, and this time it had nothing to do with his erratic driving. Her shoulders hunched and she felt her back sting angrily. Nothing made sense anymore.

She pulled herself off the floor, feeling a hundred times more pathetic than she had fifteen minutes ago and a great deal less cocky. She stepped quickly down the hall, just wanting to eat breakfast and try to have a day as normal as was possible under the abnormal circumstances.

She stepped out of the elevator, strode through the lobby and entered the adjoined restaurant.

She immediately saw Mai and Chloe seated at one of the tables, Mokuba across from them talking animatedly. He was wearing a tight, black leather vest and a pair of low-cut skin-tight jeans. Ali approached them, letting a small smirk play across her features, determined not to let on what had just happened. She remembered how terrible of a liar she once was and didn't know whether to be proud or horrified that she was a flawless actress now.

"Hey guys." She greeted, taking the empty seat next to Mokuba.

The three greeted her back, and Mokuba watched as Chloe handed Ali a piece of her toast and a container of honey. Ali drizzled the honey over the bread and took a bite. It was like they had eaten together so many times it took no thought to please the other.

"Well, you're certainly a sight for sore eyes." Ali winked at Mokuba. He smirked back at her and Mai frowned.

"Ali, those boots are too high for those shorts," she critiqued, "who even wears boots in the summer?"

"You see what I have to live with?" Ali said to Mokuba through a mouthful of toast.

"It's true," Chloe chimed in, "you look like a hobo."

Ali rolled her eyes and popped the last of her toast in her mouth. "What are you doing today? Don't you have school or something?" she asked the teen.

"Actually, I was only attending school for the music course, I'm doing everything else from home." He shrugged, "I thought I'd come see you."

"Good," Ali smiled, and leaned back in her chair, forgetting about her back. She winched and pulled herself straight again. Chloe noticed immediately.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, concerned. Ali mentally damned the girl for picking up on every little emotion in the air; it certainly wasn't a trait either of her parents possessed.

"No," Ali said quickly, with her most convincing smile, "I'm good."

Chloe saw right through it.

"No you aren't. Why are you hurt?" she pried.

Ali felt Mokuba and Mai turn their attention fully to the situation and repressed the urge to strangle Chloe—gently, of course. She smiled, "I fell in the shower." She said taking advantage of her still-wet hair and using it as proof.

"No you didn't. If you fell in the shower you would have been complaining about it and not trying to hide it."

Ali stared exasperatedly at Mai, "You're daughter is insane."

"No she's not," the woman objected, "she's brilliant and I believe her. Why does your back hurt?"

Ali groaned and turned to look at Mokuba, he was wearing the calculating stare that he must have picked up from Seto. Their eyes met and she tried to explain everything without saying a word. If Mokuba was still as different from his brother as he had been before, then he would read her face.

The teens eyes narrowed and he turned back to Mai, "Ali and I have to go." He said politely. Mai nodded and said goodbye to her friend. Chloe waved too, yelling to her God Mother that she would see her later.

Ali felt a heat rising in her chest, it was so familiar and yet she couldn't quite place it. She walked quickly with Mokuba at her side, and she barely even realized she was leading him until they were outside and she had to stop, not knowing which way his car was parked.

Her eyes widened and she threw her fist against a nearby parking meter, ignoring the pain and the fact that she was lucky to have all her bones intact after such a manoeuvre. She lashed out and kicked the post of the contraption, this time screeching in anger.

Anger. That's what the feeling was, she realized with a shock. It had been so long since she had been purely angry. She was so used to being sad, or afraid, that now unadulterated anger seemed like a house she'd been away from for a decade.

It was hot, mind-numbing, adrenaline-pumping and she felt more alive than she had in years. In a split second of clear thought she realized that she had lost all her passion, all her fight because there was nothing to be passionate about, and nothing to fight for.

She whirled around and met Mokuba's stare with her own fiery eyes. She felt all the weakness that she had become accustomed to dealing with drain out of her and replace itself with the raw, honest feeling she used to have.

"Your brother is a fucking bastard." She hissed, not caring is Mokuba was going to be offended by her words, "He thinks he can make me give up, well he's got another thing coming. I'm not going to be scared away from fixing what is broken by a few threats."

Mokuba raised a delicate eyebrow at her, feeling that he was talking to the Ali he used to know. Not the docile, gentle creature that was afraid to offend people and had learned to hold her tongue. He decided to keep silent that he knew about the guard, that _he_ had been the one to hire the man. His plan had worked perfectly; all that the Russian needed was a threat to bring back the fire inside of her. She just needed something to rebel against.

"Those are harsh words." He said, keeping his tone neutral.

"He's the biggest asshole on the face of this planet, and I'm going to make sure he never forgets it." She seethed, "Because even though I don't like it, I love the fucker with everything I've got."

Mokuba smirked when she whirled around to search for his car. He followed her across the street when she had spotted it, all the while mentally cheering that he had Ali back. The Ali he loved wasn't hiding under a blanket of heartbreak anymore, and she back with a vengeance.

**. . .**

Ali's lips parted and she sighed softly as she listened to Mokuba play a complex melody on the piano in the music room. The room hadn't changed too dramatically since Seto had first set it up, in fact the only real difference was the vast plethora of new instruments that Mokuba had added over the years as he got older and more experienced.

His fingers flew across the keys with an expertise that she didn't even have, although she'd been playing piano since childhood, her attention span was always too short to really focus on it, and she would move on to something more exciting.

The music stopped and she smiled at the teen, "So I guess you won't be taking over Kaiba Corp." she had intended it as a joke, but when she realized that the ownership of the company might, if fact, be of discussion sooner than expected, she bit her lip.

Mokuba shrugged, "I don't want to, but I still own a lot of the company and if need should arise…"

Ali's stomach turned, the thought of Mokuba being forced to give up on his dreams and his passions just because Seto was jeopardizing his own life, made her sick. She decided that she didn't want to discuss it further, though, and she stood up from the couch to join the boy on the piano bench.

She struck a few notes on the higher end and hummed quietly, "I'm supposed to have a new song finished this month." She sighed, "I can't believe that I actually get paid for this crap."

"Someone has to make sure all the useless musicians have material." He joked playing a few chords to go with the melody she was humming.

"I missed being in here with you," she said, looking around the room, "just so you know."

"I missed having you in here, too. I wouldn't be where I am without you."

"Considering everything going on in your life, I'm not sure if that's a good thing." She said bluntly, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Me either, but I'm thankful anyway."

Ali smiled and felt the teen lay his head on hers. She knew that everything would be alright between them, at the very least. If everything else fell apart at least they would be able to hold onto each other while the world around them crumbled.

She lifted in arm and wrapped it around Mokuba's shoulders, he was so much taller than her that it was an awkward position, so she pulled her knees up to his on them. Her other arm encircled his shoulders, too, and she smiled, kissing him on the cheek. Even though he was taller now, she still felt a protective love for him.

He smiled a chuckled at her sudden display of affection. But the atmosphere changed when he remembered something of her proclamation a few hours ago. His lips straightened at he looked her deep in the eyes.

"Do you think your love for Seto will get in the way of being able to help him?"

Ali's eyes lowered, she remembered the things that she had said to him the day before and shook her head. "No, I'll be whoever he needs me to be. As long as he's safe and healthy, I'll be happy—even if he resents me forever."

Mokuba sighed and stood up from the bench, making his way to the white leather couch. "When did you realize that you felt that way about him?" he asked, plopping down on the cushions. He had known long before Ali did that she and the CEO couldn't possibly get through life as enemies, or even just friends.

The Russian shrugged, "I don't know. Some time between the first time he smiled at me and when I realized that he can kiss like a devil." She sighed in remembrance, "But I'm about as skilled in love as I am in running marathons. I don't even know if I actually love him, it might just be a stupid crush. All I know is that if he never looks at me again, I don't care, as long as he's still alive and smiling from time to time."

"Ali, millions of girls are convinced they love Seto. And you doubt it?" he cocked an eyebrow, "If I could choose anyone for my brother it would be you."

Ali rolled her eyes, "Look, let's not wax romantic, Mokie. I'll help the bastard, but the second he snaps into clarity I will beat his ass back into insanity." She promised turning and playing a violent piece on the piano.

Mokuba didn't object to the nickname, and she didn't realize it had escaped her lips. He only wanted her to refer to him as she once had, if it felt as natural as it once had, and with that accomplished he could only sit back and smile.

She switched into a song that she had written a year ago, one that had one her the first award on her shelf back at home. Mokuba immediately recognized it and began to sing along, smiling at the cheeky lyrics.

They continued like that well into the evening, chattering about small things and singing, all too happy to momentarily forget about the fact that the person closest to them both was a mess and losing years of his life as he kept on without a care.

They were interrupted, by a loud giggle out in the hall. Mokuba suddenly looked weary and tired as his eyes met Ali's.

"Seto's home." He said.

Ali stood up from the couch and approached the door; she pulled it open and stared out into the hallway.

Seto had a tall, buxom redhead in his arms and his lips were meshed with hers and her hands were cupping his cheeks. She giggled again as they stumbled, Seto caught them with is arm against the wall. The Russian could smell the alcohol that their heavy breaths were reeking of, and it was more than obvious that they were headed to the CEO's bedroom only a few halls away.

She suppressed the sadness, and the jealously she felt as she watched Seto kiss the beautiful woman. She tapped into the anger she had been feeling that morning, and cleared her throat loudly.

"Who's that?" the redhead asked, looking over the brunette's shoulder at Ali.

"She's not anyone." Seto muttered. The woman readily accepted the response and turned her attention back to the man she had been lucky enough to be brought home by.

Ali didn't know ho to react, Seto—who had always been so careful about keeping his private life private, and his little brother out of the loop when it came to his sex life—was blatantly ignoring the fact that he had been discovered with the woman.

"Seto!" Ali hissed, when the pair continued their drunken walk down the hall. She stepped fully out of the room and shut the door behind her—no matter how old Mokuba was now, she wasn't going to let him be a part of what was happening.

"We're trying to do something." The redhead said rudely. Seto let out a snort and pulled the woman into a rough kiss which ended up against the wall.

"You need to leave." Ali said, trying to stay calm as she stared at the object of the CEO's desires. She struggled to keep her composure and ignore the fact that she was longing to be in the woman's position.

"I think you need to leave, Mr. Kaiba obviously doesn't want you here."

Seto grunted in approval and pulled the woman further down the hall, leaving Ali to try and rethink her strategy. In moments she had it figured out and she stepped quickly ahead of the pair.

If Seto wouldn't pay attention to her on his own accord she would force him to. She rounded the corner into his hallway faster than they could and shoved his door open quickly. Before they caught up she was in the bathroom, grabbing bottles of pills and tossing them into the toilet.

She left a few select bottles alone, knowing that if Seto didn't have them through the night severe medical attention would be required to keep him alive. Detoxing from opiates wasn't safe outside of a hospital.

She was holding a bottle of codeine over the toilet when Seto stepped into the room. She kept her face tranquil as if she wasn't terrified of his reaction, as if this was just another part daily schedule.

The redhead's shrill cry when Seto closed the door in her face was all that gave away that Ali's plan had pulled through. In seconds he was leaping through the bathroom door and prying the pills from her fingers.

Ali's fist swung around and hooked under his jaw, but that didn't slow him down. Ali hadn't expected it to; she'd fought with addicts before and seen the things they could do when their drugs were threatened.

"Stop." He growled, pulling her away from the toilet by the shoulders. The blonde had underestimated his strength and when he pried her away she had to whirl around and push him back.

"I'm not going to let you die." She grunted, fighting with all her strength against his wrists which were trying to push her away. She grabbed a heavy metal canister off the top of the toilet and struck him in the temple with it. Immediately blood poured down his cheek, dripping onto the white dress shirt he wore.

Seto hissed in pain when she crushed her fingers into his ribs, fastening a hold that had him flat on his back in seconds. Quickly she stood and shuffled to the sink, dumping a bottle of Vicodin down the drain. She knocked a bottle of whiskey off the counter by accident, it crashed on the tiled floor leaving shards of glass and the sterile smell of alcohol wafting through the air.

Seto was on his feet quickly, grasping Ali from behind and pulling her away from the sink. Unfortunately, the newly wet floor caused her to slip the moment his grip released. A soft squeak escaped her lips as her feet came up from under her. In the blink of an eye her skull had made contact with the tiles, a sickening thud sounding through the stale air along with several tiny snaps as the glass shards broke under her weight and dug into her skin.

Seto froze; he hadn't intended to shove her so roughly, only trying to save his pills. Her brown eyes looked lost, suddenly; she stared up at his bloodied face. It was taking her too long to process what had just happened, and why her entire body was suddenly numb.

Seto stared, horrified as her eyes fluttered shut and a pool of blood appeared under her head along with several others where she had been cut by the glass. But the pool at the base of her skull was the most sickening shade of deep red, and it was only growing by the second. Desperately Seto reached into his pocket for his phone and dialled 911. He didn't know what to say, leaving the phone on the counter he stared at himself in the mirror.

The blood against his skin was a contrast and he was beginning to feel dizzy, behind him Ali's shallow breaths were becoming more and more laboured. He snatched what was left of the Vicodin bottle and forced down three of the pills, willing the pain to go away. Willing Ali to go away. And hoping with everything he had in him that he had not just done what not even Gozaburo had done, and killed someone.

**. . .**

Ali's eyes fluttered open and she immediately closed them with a groan when the hot white light pounded into her like a hammer.

"Could someone dim the light?" she heard Mokuba's voice ask, with a demanding undertone. She would have grinned at the irony that his request had caused her more pain than the lights actually had, but she couldn't—and didn't want to—move even her face.

"Ali?" his voice was closer now and she felt a light pressure on her throat, someone was taking her pulse.

Straining against the pain, she opened her eyes again; this time there wasn't nearly as much light to bombard her senses.

"Mokie?" she asked, frowning internally at the way her voice quivered weakly.

"Yeah, it's me." He replied, face coming into focus. Ali smiled as best as she could, trying to make the worry on his face disappear. "How are you feeling?"

"Like Hell, where's Seto?" she struggled to pull herself up to sit. Mokuba stopped her and suddenly looked furious.

"He went to get coffee."

"Is he okay? I hit him with a…" she struggled to remember exactly what the object had been, but there was a light haze blocking out the small detail. "I hit him with something."

"He's fine, a few stitches but that's it."

Ali frowned; she hadn't meant to hit him so hard, or for things to escalate to the point where she had to hit him at all. Slowly, she lifted an arm to touch her own head. There were bandages covering the back of it and she winced at the sharp pain that accompanied her touch.

"What… happened?"

"You have a mild concussion." Mokuba said, his face contorted like he was the one in pain, "You had twelve stitched on your head and fourteen where they had to pull glass out."

Ali blinked, only just realizing the bandages that covered her arms and she felt others on her back, legs and feet. "Jesus…" she swore.

"Did Seto hit you?" Mokuba asked—no, demanded—suddenly.

"No," she replied quickly, "no, I hit him and then I fell."

"You fell?" It wasn't unlikely, but Mokuba had a feeling there was more to the story.

"Well… he moved me, and I slipped in the floor. But he didn't mean it." She stared longingly at the youngest Kaiba, "I shouldn't have let it get so far…"

"It's okay, Ali. You were just trying to help." He kissed her forehead gently.

Ali bit her lip, she didn't like the way he was treating her, and the way he spoke with contempt about Seto. She wished that Mokuba could have been there to have seen that both of the adults were at fault.

At that moment Chloe darted into the room with Mai at her heels, the child took one glance at her and shrieked, "You're awake!"

Ali winched in pain but felt her heart swell when the girl hopped up on the bed and, carefully, touched Ali's face—the only part of her that wouldn't cause pain. "We were here before but you weren't awake."

Ali squinted, "What time is it?"

"It's long past dinner time, you slept through all of last night and today." Mai said, approaching the bed, holding a stuffed white rabbit, fluffy and tied around the neck with a large red bow. She handed it to Chloe who tucked it under Ali's arm.

"Jesus, you guys have been here that long?" she asked, feeling guilty for keeping the people she loved in worry for so long.

"No, Mokuba watched you last night and we were here today so he could sleep. We were just switching back over so he could watch you another night."

"But that guy never left, though." Chloe said, "He stayed here, but he wouldn't stay in the room when me and mommy were here. He just came and looked at you ever once in a while."

Ali looked up at the girl's mother, who nodded. Ali knew who they were referring to and felt relieved that Seto hadn't left her for dead. She leaned up to kiss Chloe's cheek and let the child curl up, carefully, next to Ali's chest.

"Well at least you're lucid, now." She put her hand on Chloe's head, "I need to get her into bed, her first catwalk is tomorrow." Chloe smiled at Ali and kissed her on the nose.

"Will I miss it?" Ali asked, suddenly feeling extremely guilty about her predicament.

Mai sent a glance to Mokuba who cast his eyes to the floor, "We'll let you talk to the doctor." She said smoothly. "I'll make sure the show is taped."

Ali opened her mouth to object but Chloe bid her goodnight and left with her mother. Halfway out the door, Seto rounded the corner to enter the room. Mai paused and gave him a closed look, but his eyes were on Chloe with no emotion evident on his features. The two left and Seto stepped into the room.

Their eyes met immediately, Ali pulled herself into a sitting position ignoring the shooting pain that covered her whole body but seemed to stem from her head.

"Ali, be careful!" Mokuba stood up at once and was at her side, "The doctor said if you move to much you'll tear your stitches."

She ignored him, still staring at Seto who was holding a steaming mug of coffee in his hand and looked wearier than he had the day before. She felt her heart pound and she caught Mokuba's eyes. "Give us a minute." She requested in a whisper.

The teen sent a wary look toward Seto and then nodded, "I'll be right outside." He muttered before stepping past his brother wordlessly. The minute the door closed, Ali stared at the CEO.

"You need to get clean Seto. What would you do if it was Mokuba in my place?" she demanded, speaking hurt but she ignored the agony.

Seto didn't say a word, he only watched as her face changed angrily.

"You're only going to get worse!" she exclaimed loudly, holding up one of her bandaged hands, "And you'll only become less afraid to hurt people. You are sick."

"I'm not sick."

"Bullshit, Seto!" she shouted as loudly as she could, it came out meekly. "You can't keep going on like this. Who even keeps booze in the bathroom?"

Seto turned his eyes to the stuffed bunny on the bed next to her, "That girl brought you that?" he asked, motioning to it. Ali was frustrated by the question but responded anyway.

"Yes."

"She's beautiful." It was the first nice thing he had said since she'd first seen him.

"I know."

His eyes locked with hers, "Is she mine?"

Ali's jaw dropped, she didn't understand the question at first but it made sense after a moment. Seto had first seen Chloe with Ali, the child had been visiting her in the hospital, and Ali knew she could take on a motherly persona when she was around the child.

"You're fucking moron," she hissed through her teeth, "if you had gotten me pregnant do you really think I would have come back here? Do you really think I would be wrestling with you and getting hospitalized if I had a child to take care of?"

Seto didn't reply, so she continued.

"You're obviously not able to be a father; you can't even take care of yourself. No, if Chloe was mine she wouldn't be anywhere near you." She seethed.

Seto looked distant as he sunk into one of the chairs, furthest from the bed. She could see his bones through his shirt and noticed that he looked more like a skeleton than he ever had.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Ali spoke again. She was in so much pain that her voice came out strangled and weak.

"I'm sorry. But I want you to get help. I want to see you take care of Mokuba again, and I want to feel safe around you, not be afraid that you'll put me in the hospital again."

She felt a hot tear escape down her cheek and before she could wipe it away, Seto spoke.

"I don't want to hurt you." He said softly. "You have to leave so I don't hurt you."

Ali blinked back more tears at his words, no promise of change, and no apology, nothing to show that he was still human.

"I'm not leaving until you're healthy again," she paused, "or one of us is dead."

"Take Mokuba and go away."

"I will not leave you to die."

"Why not?" Seto's eyes snapped up to meet hers; they were filled with anger, not understanding why she would disobey him even after he had reduced her to a bloody mess in a hospital bed.

Ali wanted to use the moment to let her tears flow, and tell the CEO that she loved him and wouldn't ever give up on him. But instead she kept her face still and stared back into his eyes.

"Because you helped me once, even though I didn't want it." She said. Even though she had been angry enough to run away for five years when she found out that he had helped her stay out of jail, helped her get her life back, she was ready to do the same for him. Even if he screamed and held a gun to her head, she was going to save his life much like he had saved her.

"I don't need help."

"Seto," her eyelids suddenly felt heavy, she had used up every bit of energy in her, "I don't care what you think you need. I'm not going to let you live a shorter life than Gozaburo did." She felt herself growing weaker under sleep's grip, "Not when you deserve… so much more… you can't die…" she was losing track of her words and her thoughts as everything became one pooled mess of emotion. "…you can't die this way."

Seto watched as her eyes closed and her breathing slowed into a regular pace. He pulled the bottle of pills he kept in his pocket out, and swallowed one dry. He stood up and left the room, not saying a word to his brother when they passed in the hall.

* * *

R&R !!  
Keep the reviews comeing you guys. See how quickly I update when I get lots? Want to keep it up?

Mahalo,  
KC.


	4. Sounds Sweet Enough

**Fall Back to Life**

**Chapter: **4

**Title: **Sounds Sweet Enough

**Fiction Rated: **R, it's still all about the mature themes, and adult humour. Now with added sexual content, drug abuse, self mutilation and half the calories. Always fresh, never from frozen.

**Disclaimer: **If I ever came to own an empire, I'd probably be too lazy to keep it in the spotlight and everyone would forget about it. So—although I'm sure there are a few of you who wouldn't mind seeing Ali animated—be thankful that _Takahashi Kazuki_ hasn't handed any rights over to me. I own Ali, though, and look what a loser she is.

**Summary:** Five years is a long time, it's long enough for a family to be torn apart, and a new one to form. It is enough time to learn to live, or to wait for death. In five years you can discover who you really are, and decide whether or not you like it. Unfortunately five years is also long enough to deep-root a grudge, rot a broken heart, and rebuild walls that were beginning to fall.

**Most of this chapter is filler-ish. Just getting things set up. Cha-cha.**

* * *

Ali growled lowly as she struggled with the pen she was trying to grip. She had apparently tried to break her fall with her hands—an otherwise useful reflex—and that only succeeded in shredding the skin and winding up in bandages. She sighed and tossed the pen down, she couldn't focus enough to read, she couldn't play guitar, Mokuba was gone for lunch so she couldn't talk to him, and now she couldn't even finish the lyrics she had been working on.

She leaned back into the headboard and stared out the hospital windows. Her room was facing the courtyard in the back, pink yellow flowers and green grass shone brightly under the warm afternoon sun. The blonde bit her lip and eyed the wheelchair a few feet from the bed.

Mokuba and Mai had been taking her out at regular intervals for a cigarette and some fresh air while she was awake—which was becoming more and more frequent, using the wheelchair. She looked down at her bandaged feet and wondered if she would be able to get herself to the chair. Even if she got into it, how would she move it? Her hands were too sore to push the wheels manually.

"Torture!" she yelled, knowing that no one would hear her, except possibly a passing nurse who would already know about Ali's feelings about being 'locked up' and not bother to check in. She groaned, Mokuba had made sure to get her a private room in a private wing, reserved for the rich and famous. Of course, the blonde would have much rather been crammed in with two other patients who she could at least talk to.

She snatched the remote up clumsily and fumbled with it until she got the TV at the foot of her bed to turn on. It was her last resort, she didn't want to watch TV when the courtyard was in her view and she was craving a hit of nicotine.

She flipped through the channels absently, all the years of never watching cable had left her apathetic to the latest soap operas, and out of the loop with the classics. The hospital had blocked out any X-rated channels and she didn't like watching music programs. Although Chloe might get excited when her songs were being played, Ali didn't care.

She let the button rest on a documentary about ancient Egyptian burial rituals, sighing and barely paying attention. She'd started eating more, it was her third day in the hospital, and her migraines were few and far between, now much weaker and more akin to a regular headache.

She hummed absently, her eyes not focused on any one thing in the room as she wished that Mokuba would hurry up and get back to the hospital.

She wouldn't even have noticed Seto in the doorway if she hadn't let her eyes wander in his direction. He was so quiet, she might not have even noticed if he were directly next to her.

"Hi Seto." Her voice was friendly; he'd stopped in to check in on her from time to time, but didn't speak much. At the moment she would have accepted the company of just about anyone.

The CEO didn't so much as nod in acknowledgement, and for a moment Ali thought he was going to leave, but he took a few slow steps into the room.

She sat perfectly still, Seto was like a cat; she had to relax and let him come to her, if she moved too quickly or too soon, he would leave. The brunette took a seat in one of the chairs and let his eyes focus on her.

"You're on lunch break?" she asked, not expecting an answer. Seto didn't speak to her much during his visits, "Mokuba just went to get lunch." She turned her head to gaze back out the window.

"You want to go outside." Seto said quietly, it wasn't a question or an offer, but he stood up and pushed the wheelchair next to the bed.

Ali kept her eyes down as she struggled to swing her legs over the side of the bed. A few of the stitches from her shallow cuts had been removed, but there were still several that were at risk of ripping open. She stopped, halfway through the excursion to take a breath; moving around was something she had taken for granted and no longer came with such ease.

Her eyes flickered up to Seto when she heard him make a soft, strangled noise comparable to the gasp of someone suffocating. His eyes were locked on her body, covered by an airy hospital gown, stitched and bandaged.

"Are you alright?" she asked, immediately assuming that he was in pain.

Their eyes met and Ali felt her heart stop, it was the first time she had seen him with an emotion other than anger playing through his eyes.

"You…" he started, but fell silent soon after. He reached a hand out and let Ali pull herself off the bed with his support. She dropped into the chair, groaning as she settled herself. Without being asked, the CEO handed her the black bag that had been next to her bed aside the vase of flowers Mai had left on her last visit.

They didn't speak as he pushed the chair down the hall, toward the exit that lead into the courtyard. It was empty save for a few patients, lounging at the far side and a few wandering butterflies. Seto stopped the chair under a tall tree and sat down on one of the benches.

Ali removed a cigarette from her bag and lit it, letting her head lull back and watching the smoke billow out from her lips. When she looked back at Seto she saw that he had mimicked the action and was rolling a lit cigarette between his fingers.

She snorted, "Really, Seto? I miss you being the smartest person I knew."

"I don't do it much." He defended quietly.

"No, you have the rest of the drugs for the majority of the time." She said, bitingly, looking in the opposite direction and throwing her own cigarette on the ground. There was something about seeing the CEO with smoke slipping out from between his lips that made her disgusted with the thought of letting any more of it enter her body.

She felt the sun caress her skin and didn't realize for a moment that there were tears rolling down her cheeks. She swore softly and wiped them away, not liking the way she couldn't control her tears anymore. But sitting in the garden with Seto, one of the few people she had ever really cared about, and not knowing if it would be the last time she ever saw him again strung her more than the wind on her wet eyes.

"How many times do I have to ask before you get help?" she asked bitterly, she lifted her eyes to lock with his, "I do not want you to die."

Seto exhaled another breath of the smoke and dropped it onto the grass, rubbing it out with his foot. Ali watched as his hair and the tail of his coat fluttered gently in the wind. Everything might have changed, but it was most inconvenient that she had to deal with the CEO while he was still wearing 'fuck-me' pants and boots that openly advertised the fact that he wasn't opposed to playing rough.

"I'm not going to die." He said, trivializing her concerns.

"Bullshit," she whispered, "You're mixing the must dangerous drugs into a fucking cocktail that you shove down your throat a million times a day."

"I have it under control."

"No you don't!" Ali snapped loudly, "You lost your control, you've always needed to be in control and now you've found the _one_ thing you can't control!"

"I couldn't control you."

Ali stopped, her mouth moved blankly for a few moments before she finally spoke, "But you tried, and that's where everything went wrong."

"Everything." He agreed.

Ali closed her eyes and let a few more tears slip out and down her cheek, "We were a family and I messed up, Seto, I know that. But now I'm here and more than ready to fix it all, I can't do that if you won't get treatment."

Seto shook his head, "If I go into treatment, my investors will pull out. No one wants to risk their money on an…"

"Addict." Ali finished for him. "Fuck them Seto, you have enough money to last you a million lifetimes."

"I can't lose my company, not after everything I did to earn it." His voice was so low Ali might not have heard if the wind hadn't been blowing towards her.

"Seto," she didn't realize how needy her voice sounded until she heard it aloud, "_please_." She begged, "I don't know what I can do to help you anymore, you won't listen to me, you won't listen to Mokuba, you're out of control…" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "_Look at me_, look at what you've turned in to."

Seto didn't look at her, he knew what she looked like and he knew he was the reason she was hospitalized. In all the years he'd been spiralling out of control with the drugs, he'd never hurt anyone in that way. He'd never hurt someone who truly cared.

"Go back home," he said lowly, "get away from me and forget about me."

Ali snorted, "You don't understand, Seto, I'm not leaving. Mokuba needs someone now that you're gone. And you need help." She fixed her eyes on his, "Will you get help?"

Seto stared back at her, his eyes sparkled dully in the sun. She'd forgotten how beautiful he could be, even in his sick state he still have one of the most angelic faces she'd ever seen. Though he was far from an angel.

"No." he said flatly, his eyes were still locked with hers, not a hint of remorse in his voice or on his features.

"Then get away from me." she choked, trying to sound strong.

Seto gazed off into the distance for a moment while he pulled a bottle of pills out of his pocket. He dropped a few into his mouth and let them fall down his open throat, and stood up. He knew Ali's eyes weren't on him anymore; her long hair was resting in the crook of her elbow as she stared deliberately in the opposite direction.

He took a step away to leave when he heard her breath catch; a sob was muffled when she bit down on her knuckles. It wasn't the few stray tears he'd seen her release, but an emotional plea, she was crying. It was his fault.

He quickened his pace, feeling the world blur around him and knowing that he wouldn't be able to change, not even for her. Not even for himself.

**. . .**

Ali swirled her tongue around the chocolate Popsicle she and Mokuba were splitting, he'd found her in the courtyard and they were still seated in the same place where Seto had left her.

"Do you think you're getting through to him?" Mokuba asked, but he already knew the answer. Ali's eyes were a telltale shade of pink, still moist from crying.

She shook her head and exhaled slowly, "I've dealt with addicts before, stubbornness is expected but…" she sighed, "Seto is so far gone I don't even know anymore. He won't even listen to me."

Mokuba stroked her hair, the bandages in her head weren't as bulky as they had been in the beginning, but they were still wrapped around the area where her skull had broken the fall.

Her eyes raked over him as he did so, he was wearing a t-shirt that fit him like a second skin, and let the skin of his abdomen show. He was tanned, something she hadn't seen on a Kaiba before, but it made him look more like an angel than he ever had. Obviously he had inherited his brother's general fashion sense, and taken it to an entirely new level.

"I don't think I asked this yet," she said slowly, "but how the hell do you get away with dressing like that at sixteen? You look like an extremely high class prostitute."

Mokuba laughed lightly, "I'm a Kaiba, I can dress however I want. Have you seen Seto?"

"I wish I'd seen Seto in your outfits." She said distantly, turning the thought over in her head and wondering what had happened to the days when her life revolved around sex.

Mokuba caught the void in her voice, "You know, he's been with a million women since you left."

"Well that makes me feel good." She said sarcastically.

Mokuba shrugged, "I think he's trying to find something, like he's hoping he'll be able to find what he had with you in someone else."

"A night of drunken sex?"

"I think there was more to it than that."

Ali sighed, it felt wrong to discuss such things with Mokuba, missing the days when he was innocent and oblivious. She took a sip of the soda he'd given her and felt the bubbling, burning sensation as it washed down her throat.

"I hate the hospital." She moaned. When Mokuba grinned slyly, she frowned. "Why is that funny?"

"Not funny," he said slowly, "but I can fix your problem for you."

**. . .**

"Mokuba, I love you but you're a douche."

"The doctor said you can leave the hospital now that you're walking." Mokuba grinned widely. It had been nearly a week since he and Ali had sat in the courtyard together and now that she was able to move around her own, her doctor had agreed to discharge her if she was receiving home care.

Ali pouted and stared around the room, it was one of the guest rooms in Mokuba's wing of the mansion and he certainly had made sure it was comfortable for her. Everything had been decorated in delightful colours, yellow curtains and blankets and a huge, circular rug of emerald green. The room looked like summer, and the huge windows let the light of the setting sun shine in.

"But I don't want to be here," she groaned, "Seto lives here."

"That way he'll know that you're always in the other wing. We'll see how long he stays away." Mokuba winked, handing Ali a remote.

The blonde looked at him quizzically, "What do you mean?"

"He's drawn to you; he even showed up at the hospital a few times just to look at you. Hit the power button." The teen pointed at the remote, changing the subject. Ali blinked and did as he instructed.

The wall across the bed was covered with panels that immediately slid open to reveal the hugest TV she'd ever seen. Ali's jaw dropped.

"It's beautiful," she cooed, "the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Unlimited pay-per-view, so don't worry about getting bored." He laughed as Ali squealed like a child. "Oh, and Mai told me to let you know that she'll be staying in Japan with you. She's staying at your old apartment."

Ali blinked and cocked her head, "My old apartment?" her mind instantly went to the one-bedroom dump that she'd been renting when she first moved to Japan.

"Yeah, the condo. Seto never sold it, so I let her go ahead and use it." He caught her confused expression, "Is that okay?"

"Yeah…" she turned away from his face, "I guess I'm just surprised that Seto didn't sell it."

Mokuba shrugged, obviously not thinking as much of it as she did. "Anyway, since you can move around feel free to do whatever, but the doctor said no straining exercise, so if you're tired or anything just call Roswell or one of the maids, or me."

"Okay, where are you going?" she asked, noticing that the teen was still standing and looked like he was ready to leave.

"I'm going to see Yugi and Joey." He said, "Unless you need me here?"

Ali shook her head, not wanting to take up any more of the boy's time or resources. "I'm fine, have fun." She smiled widely. Mokuba nodded and with a few more comments—insisting that he call her if he needed anything, telling her to rest, making sure that she was polite if the doctor stopped by—he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

The moment she was alone, Ali sat down on the foot of the bed and left a shudder run through her body. She was alone in the Kaiba's house. Again. It was an eerie feeling, like something was off. Being in the manor should have felt natural, it always used to, but now it was awkward and unusual.

She flicked on the TV—for the background noise if nothing else—and stood to look out the window. It was a beautiful day, and the Kaiba's garden was as beautiful as always. She watched as a few birds landed in the dragon-esque fountain and ruffled their feathers under the cool water. She ran her finger along the glass, her hands were still bandaged in some places where the stitches were still in.

She sighed and padded quietly across the room to a desk where Mokuba had set her laptop, she pulled it open and opened the semi-finished lyrics she had been working on. The Russian still had no flair for technology, but in a world dominated by emails and websites she'd gotten used to the basics at least.

She typed—slowly, using her healed fingers to strike the keys—a few more lines of words that could be interpreted as heartfelt and meaningful, smirking lightly at the fact that not one part of the song meant a thing to her.

It didn't take long before she had finished, and become bored of checking her email accounts—filled with requests from musicians. She stood up and walked to the suitcase Mokuba had left for her in the room. Mai had brought it for her when she was in the hospital; she pulled out the toiletries bag. Carefully—her feet still weren't in their best shape—she walked to the door.

She peeked out into the hall and frowned; she'd never been in this wing. Mokuba had moved into a new wing, one that she'd never bothered to explore. She hoped that she would be able to find the bathroom easily enough, it had been a while since she'd bathed outside of the hospital and she was looking forward to a quiet, solo, bath.

She stepped out into the hall; the wool slippers she was wearing gave no audible evidence of her footsteps. Unlike in Seto's wing, the doors were not all closed, in fact, most of them were open, making Ali feel much less guilty about poking around. The first room she saw must have been Mokuba's. It was directly across from the guestroom she was in; she peered in through the open door.

The walls were a dark, navy colour and plastered with several bands—many that she had worked with—posters. It was clean, not with the obsessive-compulsive air of Seto's spaces, but cleaner than anywhere she inhabited. The bed was covered with red silk blankets and a matching canopy; definitely the room of a teen with good taste, and class.

She stepped past the door, not wanting to pry into the teen's personal space. The next door lead to a bathroom, which Ali found relieving, her guestroom didn't have an attached bathroom, and it was convenient that she wouldn't have to walk far.

She stepped in and smiled, just like everything else in the mansion, it was richly decorated, decadent in gold. The bathtub was the size of a small pool, round, and looked like it could easily fit seven people. She set her things on the counter and turned the taps on.

She pulled her iPod out of her toiletries bag and set the huge DJ headphones over her ears, cranking the music to drown out the sound of the water as she pulled off the flimsy cotton pyjamas she was wearing. She stared at herself in the mirror; a few stitches were still in on her cheek where her face had landed in the shattered glass. Her hair was down and as she combed her fingers through it she hummed along to the song played through her earphones.

When she stepped into the bath, she sighed loudly, it was warm and the bubbles she had added smelled like ginger. She lulled her head back and closed her eyes, happy for the time alone. Before she realized it, the music had begun to soften in tone and her mind had drifted off with it.

**. . .**

"What the fuck?!" Ali shouted, someone's hands had plunged into the water and snatched her around the waist, pulling her out. The water rolled off of her body and she thrashed in the arms of the stranger, scratching wildly. Her headphones slipped off and her iPod dropped into the bath water.

"Calm 'da hell down!" her attacker shouted, still clutching her tightly, though his shirt was now soaked through. Ali's eyes finally focused on the face above her.

"Joey what the hell, you sick fuck! Stop trying to rape me!" she tried again to shake herself from the American's arms.

"Ali, relax," she heard Mokuba's voice, soothing, from a few feet away "you were asleep in the bath, Joey… overreacted."

"'Da hell I overreacted!" Joey argued, "How can you leave her alone here with moneybags after what he did ta her. I thought he'd poisoned her!"

Ali's eyes widened when she realized what was going on. Mokuba had told Joey what had happened. Joey was here. Ali had sworn to Mai that she would stay away from him until they could figure out how to approach.

"Put me down." She said lowly, the man obliged, setting her delicately onto her feet. "Now, can you please explain to my why you think it's okay to go around grabbing any wet, naked ass you please?"

Joey chuckled, Ali was trying her best to look intimidating, but in her state of undress that was proving to be difficult. But the slight smile disappeared as he let his eyes rake over her body. She'd taken her bandages off for the bath. Her hands and feet were bruised and cut—he didn't even know hands could bruise—but the worst was the few deep, long gashes on her back and hips. He didn't even stop to notice the few new tattoos that she was sporting, too blind to anything but her wounds.

He snapped out of it when Mokuba finally handed her a towel and she pulled it around herself, glaring harshly at the American. "Done with the visual feast yet?"

"I can't believe…" he started in almost a whisper before launching into a full-on shout, "You know, Mokie, I had y'er brother pegged as a lot of things, but a woman beater wasn't one of 'em!" his cheeks flushed with anger.

"Oh shut up, Joey, Seto wasn't sparkling at the end of this either. He didn't _beat_ me, we were fighting. And I started it." She tried to defend her honour as well as the CEO's reputation, judging by the expression on Joey's face, it was a futile attempt.

"Well if ya started it, than he deserved it. What could you have done to deserve _this_?"

Ali stared at Mokuba, pleading for him to intervene and shut up his friend. Mokuba sighed and stepped between the blondes.

"Look, Joey, stay out of it." He paused, "Ali, don't fall asleep in the bath anymore, you look like a prune."

Ali stared at her feet, it was true, she must have been out for at least an hour or two. Joey didn't seem so easily distracted, though. He only gave Mokuba an irritated glance and handed Ali one of the white bathrobes that Mokuba had hanging in the washroom. She slipped it on, noticing that it had '_Kaiba_' embroidered on one of the pockets. For some reason it made her heart swell with pain.

Joey leaned over and fished her iPod out of the water still sitting in the tub.

"Uh, here… sorry, it's probably busted."

"Whatever," she shrugged "I have more." If she wasn't still angry with the American for ruining her plan of not seeing him, she would have mentioned that she'd done it herself several times. She had a separate music player for use in the bathroom, since one-too-many had fallen into the tub or toilet due to her carelessness.

"Well, maybe I should start callin' you miss moneybags." He chuckled, Ali blinked before she understood. Joey hadn't seen her since she was a starving teenager with barely enough cash to afford her rent, let alone multiple several-hundred-dollar gadgets.

"Ali's practically famous now," Mokuba said, suddenly excited, "name five good songs on the charts right now and I'll bet she wrote one of them!" Ali smiled, she'd missed having Mokuba look up to her and be proud of her.

"Wow, that's great!" Joey grinned widely.

Ali nodded, then rolled her eyes. "Maybe if you would let me get dressed and out of the bathroom, we could catch up. And you should probably dry off." She pointed to his soaked clothing from pulling her out of the water.

Joey laughed, "I've seen you a lot more naked than that, but sure. We'll be in the living room." He said, turning and leaving the room with Mokuba.

Ali sighed, yanking a brush through her long hair. Once she had replaced her bandages—struggling slightly with the one she still had to wear on her head—she slipped into a pair of fresh flannel pyjamas and returned her things to her room. She left the robe on her bed and left to join Joey and Mokuba in the living room.

When she got down the stairs—which wasn't as difficult as she had expected, but still not as easy as she would have liked—she realized that the two weren't alone. Yugi was also sitting on the couch while an unfamiliar face lounged in one of the leather chairs.

Yugi's eyes lit up when he spotted her, obviously no longer wary about her remorse and motives for leaving Mokuba.

"Oh good, I was expecting you to look a lot worse." He sighed, "Joey exaggerated."

Ali laughed, "Nice to know that some things don't change." She said sarcastically. She sat down next to Mokuba and Yugi on the couch. She made a point of looking at the one stranger in the room.

"And you are?" she asked, slowly trying not to sound impolite, but she had wanted to catch up with her friends and this stranger was imposing.

"Oh, that's Bakura." Mokuba said, "He's a friend of ours, and we thought he might be able to help you out…"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm in university, majoring in addiction medicines." The silver-haired man said timidly. Ali's eyes raked over him, he was small and boyish looking, probably her age. His eyes were the same colour as hers; she thought the almost-black-brown looked better on him, though. And on a second glance, she found him utterly adorable.

She smiled warmly, hoping to calm the nervous vibes he was sending into the atmosphere.

"Bakura, huh?" she paused, "Cute. But believe me, I know what I'm doing." She lied perfectly. She didn't want Mokuba to know that almost all the hope she had for Seto to come out of his addiction alive, was gone. She'd seen addicts at their worst, but Seto had detached completely.

"Well, I respect that, but I just thought…" he toyed with his thumbs and looked down, meekly.

Mokuba shot Ali an angry glare, one that he must have learned from his brother. And she shrugged.

"Whatever, I guess it can't hurt to get a second opinion."

"A _professional_ opinion." Mokuba corrected, and it was Ali's turn to glare, but the teen was looking at Bakura with a soothing smile.

The silver-haired boy nodded and tried to pull his posture up. Ali smirked, wondering how someone so weak could possibly deal with the hard-as-rocks Seto Kaiba any better than she could.

"So…" Bakura started, looking at Ali, "I was thinking that maybe we could put him on a Methadone treatment."

Ali shot him the meanest glare she could conjure up—which wasn't much, but enough to covey her point.

"No." she said flatly.

"What's that?" Yugi asked, trying to give the silver-haired boy a chance to at least explain himself.

"Methadone is a synthetic opiate, it won't have all the negative effects as what he's taking now and—"

"It's a murder to detox from," she hissed "worse than what it would be now, not to mention he's hooked on speed, too."

Bakura blinked, "He's taking speed?" he asked meekly.

"Yes. It's a wonder he hadn't had a heart attack yet."

The med student shook his head, "He needs to get into a detox as soon as possible if he's to stand a chance."

Ali sighed; there was no point in arguing with him. He had the same intentions and to push him away would be to take down one of her allies in this battle. "I know."

Mokuba pulled her into his shoulder and stroked the top of her head, "It's okay." He said, "We'll get this figured out."

Ali was opening her mouth to tell the teen that it was easier said than done, but the sound of someone entering through the front door caught her attention instead. In fact, everyone in the room fell completely silent.

It was only a few moments before Seto stepped into the room, briefcase in hand. He stopped when he saw the group seated on his furniture, studying their faces without much emotion registering on his.

"Hi Seto." Mokuba said, sounding natural, "Ali's staying here until she's better and we just decided to bring some friends over."

Seto's eyes narrowed and he stared at Ali. "Come here." He demanded.

Ali stood up reluctantly, she caught sight of Mokuba forcing Joey to stay seated, obviously the man had a problem with Seto demanding Ali to do anything when he was the reason she was able to do so little.

She stopped, close to the CEO and stared up at his eyes confidently. "Yes?"

He beckoned for her to follow him out of the room, she did without question. They walked—well, she limped—to the kitchen where Seto stopped, leaning his hands against the counter.

"I don't want you in my house." He said coldly. She could immediately smell the alcohol on his breath, it worried her.

"Mokuba set me up in his wing until I can handle being on my own."

"This is my house, and I want you out of it."

"Seto, please, I won't get in your way…" she tried, keeping her eyes level with his.

He gripped a glass of water in his hand, his knuckles turning white with pressure.

"You're in my way by being here." He hissed, Ali took a small step back.

"Look, I don't want to go back to the hospital, and I don't have the money to pay for a doctor to make house calls."

"Then I will pay for it."

Ali shivered, despite the warm house she felt like she'd been tossed into a snow bank. "If I go away, I can't help you." She said lowly.

Seto reeled around to stare at her, his lips parted and he bared his teeth, looking almost primal. "You aren't helping me."

"I want to."

She cried out when the CEO pulled her by the shoulders and rammed her against the nearest wall, his hands were on either side of her head, giving her no room to move.

"What do I have to do to you to make you get out of my life?" he hissed, inches away from her face.

"Kill me." Her voice shook a little, but she didn't have the time to care about it.

"I can, Shvakova, and I would get away with it." He whispered lowly. The alcohol on his breath bombarded her senses.

Slowly, she lifted one of her hands and touched his cheek so lightly it could barely be considered contact.

"Than do it," she whispered so quietly it was almost silent, "it would be easier than seeing you like this." She hadn't planned of turning so soft, Seto didn't need soft. He didn't need to know that she was doing this because she loved him, and not just because it was a challenge. He didn't need to know that the only thing standing between her and giving up was the way she felt about him.

But the moment she opened her mouth to speak again, Seto attacked it. He tasted like whiskey, and the kiss was just as harsh. There wasn't any emotion behind it, he was assaulting her full-on, biting her lips, completely dominating her mouth with his tongue. It wasn't a kiss that said he was sorry, or that he loved her. No, he was trying to scare her.

And if it wasn't for her heart beating in her ears, she would have been afraid.

She grasped his shoulders, biting his lips hard until the coppery taste of blood spilt onto her tongue. She didn't know if it was hers or his. The CEO snatched her wrists off his shoulders and slammed them against the wall, holding her back, trying to prove that he was stronger. Ali didn't pull away, determined to say without words that she would defeat any challenge he threw at her.

Finally, lungs burning they had to part and gasp for breath, panting and staring bitterly at each other. Seto released his hold on her wrists and they dropped down. She wanted to rub the, but that would show that he had hurt her. There was a small trickle of blood on his swollen lips, making it clear that the blood she was tasting wasn't hers.

"Haven't you done enough?" he hissed angrily.

"I haven't done a thing."

"No?" Seto said loudly, before lowering his voice, "Not the daily reminders, every time Mokuba turns on the radio, I hear your songs." His eyes stayed on her, and Ali's widened in shock.

"How did you—"

"I know the way you write, I know your words, and I get it. You've found a better life, and you don't need me in it."

Ali's eyes widened again, how someone so intelligent could be so wrong when it came to dealing with emotions was beyond her. Before she could continue, Seto opened his mouth again.

"I should never have let you into my life." He muttered, turning to leave.

"No," Ali objected, "I never should have left it. I was young, and I was stupid and selfish. We can't all grow up at ten-years-old, Seto; some of us take longer to understand life. I'm sorry I was one of those people, but I'm not a kid anymore and I won't let you act like one."

Seto turned and looked at her, his eyes were still void, but the way his lips quivered for a moment showed that her words had at least affected him.

"Didn't grow up, young, I died young."

"Then let me help bring you back to life." She pleaded, if she thought it would help the situation at all, she would have been on her knees. But Seto would never go for that.

The brunette didn't say a word, just turned and left, she listened as his footsteps disappeared up the staircase. And then she lowered herself down to the floor, her body hurt, and her brain was tired.

Someone entered the room and she looked up, teary-eyed, expecting to see Mokuba, come to comfort her. Instead her eyes met with a pair matching hers, but with much less moisture built up. But the sympathy etched on his features was undeniable, he sunk to his knees in front of her, and she immediately threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into his chest.

She might have to be strong around Seto, but when he was gone she could be who she really was. Just a grown up child who needed comfort. The med student seemed unsure of how to react to the seemingly bipolar Russian who had been so hard to please earlier, but patted her back softly.

"He thinks he's dead…" she whispered softly. Bakura pushed her shoulders back and gave her a timid smile.

"You don't seem like the kind to give up until there's a proper ceremony proving that." He tried to encourage.

Ali let a small smile warm her features, "No…" she muttered, "You're right, I'm not."

"How do you want to do this?" he asked.

Ali's smile turned into a worried expression, "Well my plan hasn't gotten me very far…"

"Well Kaiba won't be easy since he already has a…"

"God complex." Ali finished for him, not making the polite Brit say what they both knew.

"I was thinking of trying a new contemporary method of intervention." He spoke in a hushed voice.

Ali cocked her head, "Alright, shoot."

"Well come back to the living room, this might take a while to explain and linoleum floors are no place for the wounded." He helped her to stand up.

Ali smiled softly, maybe a little bit of help wouldn't hurt the situation.

* * *

More reviews means fast updates. Less reviews means you wait. Pick your poison.

Mahalo,  
KC.


	5. In an Instant

**Fall Back to Life**

**Chapter: **5

**Title: **In an Instant

**Fiction Rated: **R, it's still all about the mature themes, and adult humour. Now with added sexual content, drug abuse, self mutilation and half the calories. Always fresh, never from frozen.

**Disclaimer: **If I ever came to own an empire, I'd probably be too lazy to keep it in the spotlight and everyone would forget about it. So—although I'm sure there are a few of you who wouldn't mind seeing Ali animated—be thankful that _Takahashi Kazuki_ hasn't handed any rights over to me. I own Ali, though, and look what a loser she is.

**Summary:** Five years is a long time, it's long enough for a family to be torn apart, and a new one to form. It is enough time to learn to live, or to wait for death. In five years you can discover who you really are, and decide whether or not you like it. Unfortunately five years is also long enough to deep-root a grudge, rot a broken heart, and rebuild walls that were beginning to fall.

* * *

Ali's jaw fell open and the piece of chocolate she had just placed in it fell into her lap. Her eyes were wide and she stared at Bakura's innocently nervous face, everything on her features screamed 'shock'.

Everyone else in the room was staring at the med student with an expression equally as shocked. The only sound in the living room was the swinging pendulum of the large grandfather clock in the corner. After at least a full minute of the silence, Ali spoke.

"The chances of surviving that are next to nothing." She said.

"Actually," Bakura answered immediately, "there is very little risk, as long as we keep a close eye on—"

"I meant _my_ survival!" she shouted, "Seto would actually kill me!"

Bakura looked down at his hands and toyed with his thumbs, a habit that was becoming less adorable and more annoying the more time she spent with him. She huffed loudly, trying to get his attention off his fingers and onto her.

"Wait," Mokuba chimed from behind them, "I'm not going to say it's the safest idea, but it's the best one. Explain more, Bakura."

The Brit looked up with a timid smile, "Well… it's been used before and has a decent success rate. All addicts need to hit a bottom before they can change; it varies with the patient but—"

"You want us to induce his 'bottom'." Ali said slowly. Bakura nodded and she bit her lip, it was a far more drastic measure than what she had hoped for.

"It's just a matter of finding out what that is for him." He explained.

The Russian leaned her head on Mokuba's shoulder, Joey didn't seem opposed to the idea at all, in fact he almost gave a grin as he regarded Bakura.

"So 'ya want to torture moneybags?"

Ali shot him a dangerous glare, "No. There will be no _torture_." She nudged Mokuba, "Mokie and I will talk about this since he knows Seto best, and we'll get back to you."

Bakura nodded and stood up slowly, Mokuba rose as well, ushering Yugi and Joey to follow him. They said their goodbyes to Ali, wished her health and left when the raven-haired teen finally lead them to the door.

Ali sat alone on the couch while Mokuba was chatting quietly with his friends in the foyer. She bit her nails, which were already down to nearly nothing. Bakura's idea made sense; an induced bottom, that is. But the thought of subjecting Seto to something she didn't think she could handle herself seemed unfair.

Her legs were tucked under her, and she was drumming her fingers on her knee when Mokuba returned to the living room.

"So… what do you think?" he asked, sitting on the opposite end of the couch so they could look at each other.

"I think it's unfair," she sighed, "but what is the other option?"

Mokuba watched as she buried her face in her hands, not crying this time, clearly exhausted. Her hair, no longer wet from the obscenely long bath, draped over her shoulders, spilling into the crook of her elbows.

"I hate that this is what we have to resort to, to save his life." Her words were muffled by her hands, in the way of her mouth. "I hate that he put us in a position where we need to save his life!"

Mokuba sighed, "I know it's hardly a comparison, but he saved your life, didn't he?"

Ali peered up from her hands, Mokuba was right. If she hadn't been introduced to the kid and his brother… she wouldn't still be clean and healthy, and sane…

"But I would be a whole lot happier." She muttered, finishing off her thoughts. Mokuba didn't need much explanation, he only shrugged.

"You might be in his situation, or in jail, or back in the mental institute."

Ali paused, "Damnit, Mokuba, you Kaiba's need to learn that just because you have access to public records, does not mean you should go prying into them."

"It didn't say why…" he said quietly. Ali knew that it was more of a question than a statement and she sighed loudly, deciding that she might as well humour the smart-ass teen.

"I tried to kill myself… a lot, I went a few times before they finally straightened me out." She shrugged.

Mokuba's jaw dropped, "Why?"

"My brother, I was really depressed and shit when I realized he wasn't coming back. The first time a tried to hang myself, but I was pretty young, and I assumed that a ceiling fan would hold me. It didn't." she paused, "After that there were a few stupid attempts, I drank glass cleaner, and there was an incident regarding a stolen can and a transformer station…"

"I read about that one."

"Yeah, me and Seto had a bonding conversation about that one, he snooped into my records too." She scoffed. "God, he used to just be an asshole who brightened my day, now I'm plotting with his baby brother to break his heart, to save his life…"

"I don't want to do this to him either," he said softly. Their eyes met, for the first time since returning to Japan, she could see the teen's maturity melting away. His eyes closed, "I don't want him to be like this."

Ali crawled across the couch to pull the boy's head into her chest, stroking his hair, kissing his forehead, anything she could do to comfort him as the tears started up.

"Ssssh, it's okay. You've been strong, but this must be killing you." She whispered, rubbing his back softly as he tried not to sob. "You don't need to be tough for me."

She felt him nod, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. It wasn't awkward to hold him, even now that he was taller than her, even now that he was a young adult. In the moment, he was just Mokie, and she would saw her own arm off if she thought it would make him stop crying.

**. . .**

Ali dipped her finger in the cup of hot chocolate that Shardi had fixed for her. It surprised her more than anything to find that the mansion still had the majority of the same employees as it had in the beginning. The cook had been more than kind to her, bringing her snacks and treats since she had arrived. She sighed and checked the clock on her laptop.

Three in the morning.

Great.

She stood up from the desk in her bedroom and moved to look out the window, Bakura had left hours ago, and Mokuba had gone to sleep not long after. But she was still wide awake, unable to even settle down, not when she knew Seto was on the other side of the house.

She pulled her guitar into her lap as she plopped down on the bed, strumming quietly. If she couldn't sleep, she would at least try to get some work done. It was proving to be relatively easy, with all the emotions going through her there was more than enough to channel into a song.

She bit her lip, fastening the capo on the neck of her guitar. Bakura's plan had been obscure, dangerous, controversial, and exactly what needed to be done. She knew it, but that didn't stop the choking feeling in her chest every time her mind wandered to the outcome.

She set the instrument down, tiring of the music, and her fingers were beginning to ache. She stepped into her slippers and pulled a housecoat around her flannel pyjama's. She stepped into the dark hall, quietly moving toward Mokuba's door and cracking it open a little.

There were a few fine beams of moonlight peering through the windows to illuminate the room. Mokuba was lying in his bed, curling around one of his pillows like a teddy bear, his hair was splayed around his head, already sufficiently tangled so that he would need to spend at least fifteen minutes with a brush before he could look normal again. Ali smiled at the sight, stepping back out of the room and closing the door behind her as she continued down the hall.

Her instincts tried to pull her in the direction of Seto's wing, but she fought against them. It was too late—or too early, depending on how she looked at it—for a fight, and since Mokuba was asleep… if Seto did kill her he could get rid of her body before morning.

She shuddered at the thought, wondering how likely of a concern it was. Would Seto really kill her? If not now, than what about when she complied with Bakura's plan?

She tried to remember where the back door was located, wandering around on the ground floor for several minutes before she found it—behind the kitchen—and stepped out into the moon flooded back yard.

The slow trickling of water from the fountain could be heard, carried to her by the gentle breeze. She kicked off her slippers and dropped her housecoat into the grass before wandering around through the flower beds and evergreen trees planted around the yard. The fountain looked almost ominous in the dark, the Blue Eyes White Dragon's likeness spewing water over itself; a few small nocturnal birds were bathing in it. She shuddered, she still didn't like dragons, even less so now that she associated them with the coldest, most dangerous parts of Seto. The parts that had completely taken over.

She heard a soft sound coming from behind a few of the trees and instantly peeked through them.

Stretching across the grass was a concrete pad, in the center of which a huge in-ground pool sat. She blinked, she hadn't seen it there before, but it wasn't particularly shocking that the richest man in Japan would have a pool. Further back she could see a tennis court.

Upon further inspection she realized that the sound she had heard was coming from the pool. Someone was swimming, at three in the morning. She got a little closer, just in time to see Seto's head break the surface of the water, gasping softly for air before he continued to do quick laps across the surface of the huge pool.

Ali's willed her eyes to moved, but her body was frozen. Maybe she would have been better off to just try and find him in his wing of the house. When her search came up empty she could have assumed he was gone and went back to bed.

The moonlight reflected off his pale skin and gave him the illusion of glowing. Without the heavy clothes he usually wore, she could see how thin he had become; sure the CEO could never have been described as 'stocky' before, but this was a new level of thinness. His bones looked like they were fighting to escape his skin, and if he moved the wrong way, they might succeed.

He didn't seem to have much muscle, but continued to push himself through the water, despite how hard it may have been. She wondered where the child in her had gone when she realized he wasn't wearing swim shorts—why would he, really? No one was supposed to be around—and she didn't blush. She didn't even try to catch a glimpse of his uncharacteristic nakedness.

After a few minutes, he began ascending the steps out of the pool. She could hear his slight panting as he snatched his towel off the railing and dragged it through his hair, rubbing away the excess water before wrapping it around his waist. The Russian kept her eyes glued to his back, the scars covering the skin there were just as shocking as the first time she had seen them, their last night together.

He turned slowly and caught her watching him, his eyes were the colour of the day sky, even in the darkness, the silver moon sparkling off them, making them glitter. Ali took a deep, shaky breath and stepped toward him—why not, she'd already managed to wind up near him when she had wanted to stay away.

"What are you doing?" he asked, trying to calm his oxygen-starved lungs.

"I didn't know you were out here, I came for a walk." She said, sitting over the edge of the pool and dangling her feet into the water. She felt Seto next to her, pulling on a pair of loose slacks. "You're really thin."

"Hn."

"It's the speed; it's suppressing your appetite and burning more than you're taking in." she said casually. That didn't even gain her a grunt; she sighed, looking up at the star-filled sky. Seto's house was just far enough from the town that the stars weren't covered art night.

"What were those idiots doing here?" he asked bitterly, referring to Bakura, Joey and Yugi. Ali bit her lip, she wanted to tell him but that would offset everything that she and Mokuba had decided on. No, if this was going to work, she needed to do what Seto had done five years ago, the same thing that had ruined everything. Lie.

"I don't know, Mokuba brought them over. He's been acting… strange." Her voice was convincing, but she wasn't proud of it. She wanted Seto to figure everything out, because she knew that when all the lies fell in place, the look in his eyes would break her heart.

Seto didn't say anything, but she felt his movements slow. Good. His weakening relationship with his little brother was working to her advantage. She knew Seto and Mokuba hadn't been spending as much time together as they used to, Seto may have noticed small changes in Mokuba, but not taken them to heart.

"Strange?" he muttered quietly, almost unwilling to admit that he hadn't noticed.

Ali shrugged, "Maybe it's just me, but he's so… secretive now. He goes out a lot, and his friends seem… worried about him. I don't know, I'm probably just paranoid."

Seto stood next to her before squatting down. With a great amount of effort, she turned to meet his eyes, keeping them as reserved as she could, hoping there was nothing in them to give away that she was lying.

"When will you be healthy enough to leave?" he asked coldly, changing the subject completely, but staying down on her level.

She shrugged again, "I'm not sure. I think they're just making sure I don't get an infection, or something."

"Hn."

"I'd apologize for imposing…" she said slowly, "but I'm not sorry, so that would be a waste of breath." She heard Seto snort, and she wanted to laugh; for a fleeting moment she could pretend that things were the way they used to be. Back when she would fight with Seto for the entertainment, sometimes for the release, but never because she was watching him kill himself. Having him next to her, able to reach out and touch him with her fingertips and not wake up to find it was a dream… it was all too much and she felt her eyes fill with tears.

"When the hell did you get so emotional?" Seto muttered.

Ali tried to force a small laugh, "I don't know, I think right after Mai had Chloe, and I finally understood why you hated it every time I put Mokuba in danger." She sighed, "I used to think that kind of love could win a war."

Seto turned his head away from her and Ali watched as he gazed across the perfect landscaping of the perfect yard to his perfect house which he had bought with his earning from the perfect company he ran, perfect, perfect, perfect.

Oh, how imperfect everything was once you looked past the face value of it. She felt another wave of helpless emotion pulse through her and tried to stifle the feeling of being so small and insignificant in Seto's big, important world. The world which was going up in flames as they sat poolside at three in the morning.

"Love can start a war, but never win one." He said quietly, Ali almost thought it was just the wind blowing through the trees with the way his voice whispered. But the wind could never be so cold, not even in the dead of winter could a breeze chill her the way his words did. She looked down at her bruised hands, surprisingly, the pain of her wounds were nothing compared to the hurt she felt resisting from pulling the CEO close.

"We'll see, I guess, won't we?" she asked, standing up and looking down at Seto. He gave her a confused glance but turned his head away quickly. She backed away from him, her heart straining and her vision blurred with tears she was determined to keep. She collected her housecoat and slippers on her way back into the house.

The moment she fell into her bed, she pulled her pillow close to her face and muffled the sobs. Not because she was worried about anyone hearing them—no one would have—but because it was the only way she could pretend she wasn't crying. If she couldn't hear her own strangled cries, she could pretend she had it all under control.

**. . .**

Ali tied her hair back, with the bandage no longer necessary; she could finally get it off her face. She watched as Mokuba twirled the syringe around his fingers and stared at Bakura who was pulling a series of small vials out of the doctor's bag he had brought along with him. They were sitting around the desk of Mokuba's study, Seto was at work, but they didn't want to risk anything. If he came home, they needed to be out of sight.

Ali had noticed immediately that Mokuba's study was far more modern than Seto's office. Even though the CEO was the king of everything technology, his personal tastes always reflected a more classic style of décor. Mokuba's study was brightly coloured, the bookshelves stood alone in rows, unlike the wall-bookshelves his brother preferred. The desk was large and ebony with silver designs painted across it, dragons of course. Did Kaiba's even know about any other creature of myth, or ornament?

"Okay," Bakura said, one all the vials were out, his heavily accented voice sounded nervous "these are just your normal saline solution, I've coloured them a bit to look like…" he trailed off.

"Heroin." Ali finished for him. Her eyes flicked to Mokuba who was still toying with the syringe. "If you stick anything _except_ the saline into your body, I will cut your pretty hairs off and feed them to you." She warned.

Mokuba rolled his eyes, "Don't worry, Ali."

They sat back and listened while Bakura explained to Mokuba what he would need to exhibit behaviour-wise, how he should carry himself, precisely how long his bathroom breaks should be when he was with Seto, hoe he should speak, when he should speak, what delays he should have in his speech. Everything that the kid could possibly need to know to mimic the behaviour of an addict, Bakura had notes on.

"Now this is all perfectly healthy for Mokuba, but we'll need to keep a close eye on Seto. If he is lead to believe that Mokuba is… sick… in his unstable state there is a possibility he could—"

"I'll be in charge of that." Ali said quickly, not wanting Bakura to finish what he was saying. It wasn't something she wanted to think about, not even consider.

The pale-haired boy nodded and turned to Mokuba, "You can't slip up, Seto's smart and if he figures out what we're doing, Ali's health will be jeopardized."

Ali smirked, judging by the over-confident look on Mokuba's face—he must have learned it from his brother—he didn't think he would slip up. Then Bakura blushed and looked at his hands, opening his mouth for a moment before shutting it completely.

"What?" Ali asked, suddenly having a feeling that something was off.

"Well… I was just… thinking perhaps…" he stopped for a moment.

"What is it, 'Kura?" Mokuba asked, softly. Ali glanced at him for a moment, the kid had grown in to a master manipulator, he could control anyone's mood with the tone of his voice and body language. She had to wonder if he even realized he was doing it.

"If Seto thought you two were _together_…" Bakura said quickly, his face turning beat red as he immediately looked away from them.

Ali's eyes widened and Mokuba looked taken aback. They turned to stare at each other for a moment. Ali studied Mokuba, trying to decide if it seemed at all plausible.

"I don't think I could act that out through the intense vomiting that would be going on." She said lowly. Mokuba looked extremely hurt.

"Well that was an ego boost." He said sarcastically.

"First of all," Ali started, holding up a finger, "you're a Kaiba, last time I checked you guys didn't have low-self-esteem issues. Second, I would incarcerate myself for child abuse if I ever felt any sort of attraction to you."

"Hey, it's only a six year gap!" Mokuba defended, "And I'm mature for my age."

Ali rolled her eyes, "I knew you when you were eleven, you realize that if I were to 'get with you'" she used air quotes to add drama, "I would have to be the sickest person ever. And besides," she turned back to Bakura, "Seto knows the kind of men I like. Mokuba's cute and all, but a little too effeminate for my tastes. Seto would know that."

Bakura nodded, "Okay, so that idea won't work, then."

"All right, moving on…" Ali said awkwardly, "I called Mai over. She can give Mokuba some tips of how to give his face that washed out junkie look."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Mai cracked it open and peered in.

"Thanks Roswell," she said over her shoulder as she stepped in. She had Chloe balanced on her hip, but the moment she put the child down she ran to Ali, embracing her and climbing up on her lap.

"You look better!" she smiled widely, showing off her small, square teeth. Ali smirked and kissed the girl's cheek.

"So," Mai clapped her hands together, "I get to give the littlest Kaiba a makeover?"

Mokuba gave Ali a wary glance, obviously concerned that he would end up looking like Chloe, or rather, Mai. Mai must have caught the look because she rolled her eyes and pulled a make-up bag out of her purse.

"Don't worry, my job is to make you look uglier." She laughed. Mokuba looked slightly relieved as she clasped a perfectly manicured hand around his face, turning it to scrutinize him completely. "Which will apparently be a challenge, those Kaiba genes are really something, aren't they?" she joked. Ali smirked in agreement, Mokuba had turned out just as stunning as Seto.

"Well I'm not attractive enough, Ali won't date me." He said with mock hurt, Ali rolled her eyes and ignored Mai's confused expression. Instead she turned her face back to Chloe; her delicately tanned skin looked more golden than usual. She must have been spending a lot of time outside.

She had her mother's hair, and mouth, but everything else about her was reflective of her dad. The soft bone structure in her face, her skin tone, even the colour of her eyes was the shimmering golden, topaz. Aside from the flecks of ocean blue, which was a beautiful feature, both her parents meshed together in her vision.

"What have you been up to?" Ali asked smiling widely, as she always felt compelled to in the presence of the child, who returned the smile.

"Nothing," she said, "I learned some Japanese." She sounded proud, and Ali realized that she would have to, if Mai did intend to stay with Ali as long as she needed to be in Japan. They wouldn't be leaving for a while. She wondered if Chloe would be put in a school in the area, if so she would be a hit with the other kids. She was beautiful, intelligent and her mother was designing clothes that their mothers were probably wearing. Maybe even the children themselves, if Mai's children's line became a hit.

And with a face like Chloe's endorsing, how could it not?

"That's good," Ali grinned, listening as the girl listed off words she had learned in her adorably awkward accent. She was barely aware of Mai chatting with Mokuba as she explained to him how to darken his eyes to make it look realistic, and Bakura chiming in occasionally to tell the teen when the makeup should be darker. Her eyes were on Chloe, going on about how she had been wrong about Japan, and she was enjoying her stay.

She stroked the child's hair, relishing in the sweet candy-like smell that came off it, determined to protect the innocence the child carried. Her thoughts wandered back to the conversation she'd had with Seto early that morning; he could only feel for Mokuba what she felt for Chloe tenfold. Which was what broke her heart about what they were planning to do. If Seto thought that he was losing his little brother to something that he could understand, but not control… how much longer would he be around for her to save?

She was stolen from her thoughts when another knock sounded from the door. Mokuba looked worried, and Ali's heart skipped a beat. It was only a little past noon, Seto had come home early. She stood up quickly, joined by Mokuba as they tried to hide the vials, the needles and the makeup.

Mai looked utterly confused, but feeding off the energy Ali and Mokuba were exhibiting, she moved to grab her daughter protectively.

"No, it's okay!" Bakura explained, pulling Ali's hand away from his doctor's bag, which she was reaching for. "I told Joey to come over, we need to explain to him how to act around Mokuba when Seto is around and I've already gone though everything with Yugi and…" he trailed off when Mai dropped the small hand mirror she had been holding.

Ali sent a terrified look at Mokuba, "You knew about this?"

The teen shook his head vigorously, "Bakura, I forgot to mention it to Bakura!"

The poor med student looked like he was going to die of a heart attack, but there was no time because Joey finally got bored of knocking and pried the door open.

The atmosphere he was presented with was what he would have expected if he'd walked into a war zone after a bomb had dropped. His eyes scanned the people, landing on Mai.

"Mai? 'Dat you?" he asked, cocking his head slightly.

Ali heard her friend swallow roughly, before nodding. Chloe was balanced on her hip, staring intently at the stranger who seemed to be causing her mother a great amount of distress. Her eyes narrowed as she took in Joey's face, trying to discover what was so frightening about him, that no one was even speaking.

"When'd you get back in town?" he asked, casually, as if nothing was anything but normal. Mai didn't look like she was able to speak yet, so Ali jumped in.

"We're in town for business; Mai's fashion line is huge here."

Joey blinked before his eyes widened with realization, "Oh, 'dat's right. Yeah, I see y'er clothes everywhere. Those panties ya design are hot." He winked at the woman.

Mai's eyes rolled and she held Chloe tighter, grabbing her purse she stormed out of the room. Her daughter stared around in confusion as she was carried away, but her face disappeared behind the door when Mai slammed it.

Joey stared at the closed door in confusion before turning back around to face the three left in the room.

"What'd I do?" he asked, throwing his hands up. "God, that broad only gets crazier."

Ali stood up, frowning deeply, "You're a fucking dick, Wheeler." She muttered brushing past him and letting herself out of the room to chase after her friend. She heard Joey cry out in confusion as she closed the door behind her.

Mai was just putting Chloe in the backseat when Ali threw on a pair of flip-flops—the only thing she could comfortably wear aside form slippers—and darted out the front door. She didn't say anything, only slid into the passenger seat and let Mai pull out a moment later. Even Chloe was silent for the five minute drive to Ali's old condo, sensing her mother's unease.

The car stopped in the underground parking lot and Mai sat still, hands on the wheel, for a few silent moments before she smacked the car horn angrily and stormed out. Her heels clicked away from them as she strode across the pavement to head upstairs.

Ali turned to study Chloe's face, the child was still in her car seat, staring at her mother's retreating form.

"What happened?" she asked finally.

Ali sighed, "Kid, I can't even begin to explain it. But just remember that your mom loved you more than anything, and she would never subject you to anything she thought would be harmful."

"So he was a bad man?" Chloe asked when Ali ducked into the back seat to unbuckle her. Ali stopped to look in the child's eyes. She couldn't very well tarnish her opinion of Joey forever, so instead she said something Mai probably wouldn't have wanted her to say to the kid.

"No, Chloe, he's a very good man, but he's also a very _young_ man. You'll understand when you're older."

Chloe protested quietly as Ali lifted her out of the car and carried her toward the elevator. Once they were inside, and Ali remembered what floor her old apartment had been on the felt the machine pulling them upward.

"I'm going to have to take a nap, aren't I?" Chloe sighed.

"What? Why?"

"I always have to take a nape while you and mommy 'talk'." She used her fingers to accent the last word, rolling her eyes.

Ali chuckled softly and kissed the child on the top of the head, "You're such a good girl." She muttered, smiling.

The moment they entered the apartment, Chloe disappeared to the second bedroom. Ali had thought it to be excess when Seto had set her up in a two-bedroom condo, but she was thankful for it now, since Mai was apparently in the master bedroom.

Ali took a breath, ready for the hurricane, and pushed open the door.

Mai was pulling off her tight tank-top and kicking off her miniskirt, replacing them with a pair of flannel shorts and a too-big t-shirt. She sighed, and threw herself down across the bed. Ali let the door click shut and turned to look at herself in the full length mirror that stood next to it.

"They say you never really understand change until you return to somewhere you have been, and look at yourself in the same mirror you once did. Then you realize that only you have changed." Ali sighed, trying to fight off the weirdness she felt being back in her old bedroom. The last time she had been in it, Seto had woken her up early to take the flight to New York, where everything had gone awry.

"Well some people _don't_ change." Mai replied, bitterly. Ali took it as a cue that it was safe to approach the seething American. She sat down on the bed next to her friend.

"I'm sorry, no one told me he'd be coming." Ali said.

Mai sighed, "It doesn't matter, I guess." She paused for a moment, "I feel like an idiot, I should have expected things to be like this, it's my fault."

"What do you mean?"

Mai sat up and wrapped her arms around her long legs, "He's the same kid he was five years ago. I was hoping he'd be a mature adult, someone who I could talk to and relate to, someone who be the father of my child."

Ali bit her lip, she wanted to console her friend, let her vent, and agree with everything she said. But if she let Mai decide she hated Joey, she would forever wonder if she would have been able to mend their relationship.

"He's a guy, Mai. He needs a push to go in any real direction. Otherwise he'll just stay where he is." She paused, Mai didn't lash out which meant she was listening, "Even if he's an idiot, he'll fall in love with Chloe."

"But I don't _want_ him to be an idiot. I left because he was too immature to handle the responsibility, and I didn't want to ruin his youth—he was only nineteen. But now, he's twenty four, he should be able to see me without making a sex reference." She sighed.

"Hey," Ali shrugged, "if he's the same person he was five years ago, then that means he's the same person you saw something in. You don't let anyone in your bed, Mai, they have to mean something. Joey must have meant something. Why don't you try to find it again?"

"Damnit, Ali." Mai groaned, "You're so goddamn heart broken that you sound intelligent."

Ali blinked, "What?"

"You never used to care about other people's love lives. Now you can't bear the thought of anyone feeling what you feel. It's sweet, but completely depressing."

Ali blinked again, was Mai really managing to turn this on her?

"I'm saying this because I care about you, and I love Chloe more than anything. Not because I'm depressed." She defended, it was the truth. The thought of Chloe never knowing her father was a saddening one. And now that the situation had presented itself, she was going to do what she could to make sure that it was taken full advantage of.

"Of course, but have you ever stopped to wonder why you love Chloe so much? It's not normal to be so attached to a child that isn't yours."

Ali glared at her friend, "Yes it is, I love her because you guys are like my family!"

Mai sighed and put her arm around the defensive Russian, "You never want to see her hurt like you were. She came into the world when you were so sad; you never even left the house. Now you're so protective of her, it's because you're so damn broken. You've given up on fixing yourself and focus on everyone else. And that's depressing, Ali, you never used to give up."

The room was silent for a few minutes as Ali thought over what Mai had said.

"I guess it makes some sense. But I'm trying, I really am." She said quietly, "If I can see Seto happy and healthy again… I think I can be happy."

"Even if he's not yours?"

"As long as he's alive and happy, then I can go on with my life, knowing I helped and never having to worry about something stupid like finding someone to love, because I've already come as close to that as I ever will."

"God, that's so depressing." Mai sighed, "How did we end up like this? Two old hags sitting around with our sob stories about unrequited love…"

Ali gave a half-laugh, half-snort, "I don't know. I sure as hell didn't think I'd ever feel this way about the biggest douche on the planet."

"And I have the child of his disobedient mutt."

They chuckled together, hugging, and both of them knew that even if their worlds crumbled they'd be able to hang on to each other.

* * *

Okay, I don't know what happened to my reviewers, but if they don't come back soon I'm going to go crazy and kill off everyone. Don't think I won't, it would only take 1,000 words, tops. And I have lots of spare words, lots and lots.

Mahalo,  
KC.


	6. Itching for a Comeback

**Fall Back to Life**

**Chapter: **6

**Title: **Itching for a Comeback

**Fiction Rated: **R, it's still all about the mature themes, and adult humour. Now with added sexual content, drug abuse, self mutilation and half the calories. Always fresh, never from frozen.

**Disclaimer: **If I ever came to own an empire, I'd probably be too lazy to keep it in the spotlight and everyone would forget about it. So—although I'm sure there are a few of you who wouldn't mind seeing Ali animated—be thankful that _Takahashi Kazuki_ hasn't handed any rights over to me. I own Ali, though, and look what a loser she is.

**Summary:** Five years is a long time, it's long enough for a family to be torn apart, and a new one to form. It is enough time to learn to live, or to wait for death. In five years you can discover who you really are, and decide whether or not you like it. Unfortunately five years is also long enough to deep-root a grudge, rot a broken heart, and rebuild walls that were beginning to fall.

**READ THIS: With the New Year approaching, I've been think about how lucky I am for all I have, and mostly about how lucky I am to have my sisters. They're both beautiful sweet little girls and I don't know what I would do if I lost one of them. So, in keeping spirit with my very-minor-but-important character Lancifer, as well as the child-abuse that this story deals with, I've decided that for every review I get on this chapter, I'll donate a dollar to the Missing Children Society of Canada. So, if for no other reason than that, leave me a review on this one. I'll post a reciept on my blog (just in case anyone thinks I'm lying) with the next update, in the new year. Just by leaving me a little note, you'll be helping out children and families who are in a position no one should ever find themselves in. Thank you.**

**Also, this chapter is unedited. Sorry, but I just don't have the time to edit it for spelling/grammar. It's the story that matters right? :) Happy Holidays to everyone.**

* * *

Ali watched as Mai bounced Chloe on her knee at the kitchen table. She'd spent the night with her friend, in her old condo, not wanting to go back to the Kaiba's mansion after her conversation with Mai the day before. She sighed and took a bite out of her breakfast, knowing that she would need to go back, since the doctor would be dropping by to see her and check for infections.

Chloe made a mock gagging sound as she watched Ali eat. Mai had made pancakes, bacon and eggs—the latter of which Ali refused to touch—and Ali had made a bacon, cheese and syrup sandwich out of her pancakes.

"That's so icky." Chloe whined, "I don't want to see her eat it!"

Mai laughed and Ali rolled her eyes, "You're eating something that came out of a chicken's ass, kid. Don't preach to me about gross food."

Chloe took a bite of the scrambled eggs, staring at Ali as she did so, as if she was trying to spite her. Ali chuckled lightly and pulled open the newspaper on the table—which Mai had picked up when she ran out for breakfast ingredients—scanning for the entertainment section. There were a few snapshots of Mai at a promotion for her line, holding Chloe. She smiled as she flipped the page, looking for the music charts—although she rarely admitted it, she got the same thrill from seeing that her songs had gone up, as a business man whose stocks had increased in value.

There was an article on Yugi, which she skimmed over. Apparently he still had relinquished his world champion title, a small smirk played on her lips. She finally found the popular song lists and scanned them, no significant changes in her music, which gave her a reminder that she desperately needed to finish one soon. One of the most important parts of keeping herself popular with the musicians was making sure she kept handing out material. She'd noticed over the years that rock stars were like flies; they all flocked to the same piece of crap, and had two second attentions spans.

Mai was flipping though a gossip magazine, Ali rolled her eyes. The woman would get giddy every time she saw a picture of a celebrity wearing one of her pieces on the street. Ali had always found it creepy that photographers would hide in bushes and take pictures of anyone, so she tended to stay away from such material. She hummed softly, taking a large gulp from the glass of milk she had stolen from Chloe.

"Ugh!" Mai suddenly groaned, shutting the magazine and staring out the window. It would have been casual, if not for the fact that she deliberately avoided Ali's gaze, and put her breakfast plate over the magazine.

Ali rolled her eyes, "What's the problem."

Mai sighed; there was no point in trying to trick Ali. Even if the Russian hadn't noticed that she had found something, Chloe would have picked up on it in a second. She didn't stop the Russian from reaching over and plucking the trashy magazine from under her plate and flipping it open to the page which had been creased in the hasty closing.

Ali bit her lip, it was a two-page spread based entirely on a few cell phone snapshots of Seto Kaiba and a tall blonde in a public washroom. She wrinkled her nose, Seto had the blonde pinned against the wall, facing away from him, and her skirt was hiked up around her hips.

"It's probably photoshopped…" Mai tried to encourage.

"No," Ali said quietly, "he's got that control-freak stance. But I doubt that it'll ever get more press than this magazine…"

Chloe was trying to see what the problem was, but Ali kept the pictures tilted out of her vision. The child gave up after a few moments and continued eating.

"Are you upset?" Mai asked, placing her hand over Ali's. The Russian shook her head.

"No, it's crappy that he's turned into this kind of person… but it's really the least of his problems right now." She sighed softly, "I should really go back to Mokuba's place, the doctor is stopping by later. Coming?"

Mai shook her head and glanced protectively at Chloe, "I don't want to risk you-know-who showing up again."

"Are you going to talk to him?" Ali asked, shoving down her last few bites of the concoction on her plate. "Ever?"

Mai shrugged, "I don't think it's a good time."

Ali shrugged, not wanting to press the issue over breakfast, maybe another time. She stretched her legs out and tapped her feet against the floor, testing. They felt better, she could walk, and the doctor would be taking out the remainder of her stitches later.

"Hey, why don't me and you go have some fun tonight? We can find Chloe a sitter and see if that awesome club is still open."

Mai looked like she was turning the thought, Chloe nodded, and Ali smirked. The child was in total control of Mai's life, if Chloe didn't want to be left with a sitter, there would be no fun.

"Sure, we could do that." The woman agreed. "Do you want a ride to Kaiba's?"

Ali looked out the window, the sky was clear, the sun was bright and a slight wind was blowing through the trees. She shook her head.

"Nah, it's a short walk, and I haven't been out in a while." She stood up, ruffling Chloe's hair quickly. "I'll see you guys later."

As Ali stepped out into the fading heat of the summer, she pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her bag and lit one. She hooked her ear buds in and cranked the music on her iPod, letting the sound pour into her ears, trying to pretend—if only for a few moments—that everything was just fine.

**. . .**

"Well it seems that you're doing just fine," the doctor said, smiling down at her, "no sign of infection, the stitches came out perfectly, and you're healthy."

Ali smiled, too, happy to know that she wouldn't need the medical attention anymore. Mokuba was perched next to her, where she sat on the living room couch. She noticed that he had applied a light shade under his eyes, it was barely noticeable, but if Seto was studying his face, he would surely find that something looked off.

"So she won't need you to come anymore?" the teen asked, his eyes widening happily. The doctor laughed, and shook his head explaining that this would indeed be his last visit.

Ali's ears tuned out while they talked about payments and future business. She looked down at the coffee table, remembering years ago, on Christmas, how Seto had discarded her gift to him into the drawer. She pulled the drawer open, half expecting to see the small cassette tape still sitting, untouched. When the drawer revealed nothing but a few spare pens, she wondered if the CEO had ever received her real gift.

The doctor left and the Russian turned to Mokuba, "Did Seto ever get the painting?"

"I…" the teen started, looking cautious, "I saw him with the tape… about six months after you left. But he never brought the picture home…"

Ali bit her lip, she tried to push the sadness out of herself as she shrugged, "Oh well, I guess he's not really that into art anyway." She laughed, awkwardly.

"Yes he is." The boy corrected, "He's always enjoyed art… doesn't show it, though. But all the art around is stuff that he picked out."

Ali eyes scanned around, taking in everything she'd seen a million times, but never credited to Seto. There was, in fact, several works of art around them; on the mantle of the fireplace was a plethora of finely crafted sculptures, mostly different dragons, but there was an intricately designed tree amongst them. Centered on the wall above was a large painting of a river with several obi flowing along with the current. It wasn't something she'd ever noticed before, really, and in the Kaiba mansion it seemed to fit the décor, but not the people inside. Not Mokuba, who was a child of the modern world—brother of one of the most renowned technological advancers, at that. Not Seto, who could care less about traditional Japanese style, much less the fact that the fashions were once cleaned in streams.

But then again, someone so beautiful could only be drawn to more beauty.

"What are you doing today?" she asked, muffling the spark of pain that came with her previous thought.

"Pretending to be a heroin addict." He said lowly, making it more than clear that he was still not crazy about the idea. Ali looked down at the floor, not sure how to respond to the teen. His moods seemed to swing freely these days.

"Mai and I are going clubbing tonight…" she said slowly, gauging the boy's reaction—would he be angry that she wanted to have fun while his family was crumbling?

Mokuba turned to look at her, his eyebrow cocked lightly—he looked too much like Seto when he did that.

"Is that an invitation?" he asked slyly. The Russian blinked, Mokuba was a kid, he couldn't seriously think she was inviting out to the bar…

Then again, he was a Kaiba.

She sighed indignantly, "Well I guess it is now… but no booze, kiddo."

The teen rolled his eyes but nodded, "It'll help the act if I'm out all night partying." He smirked, pulling out a sleek silver cell phone and texting someone.

"Who're you talking to?" Ali asked, trying to peek over his shoulder, but he shut the phone before she saw anything of the message.

"'Kura, I'm going to bring him along—he needs to loosen up."

Ali cocked here head, "You don't think he's a little old to be hanging out with you? You're only sixteen…"

"Almost seventeen," Mokuba corrected, "and he's your age, you hang out with me."

"It's a little different between you and me, kid."

"Yugi's twenty, we hang out."

Ali turned the thought over, Mokuba was a little more mature than most kids his age, but she still had a problem with him hanging out with—and acting—so much older. She shrugged, though, Mokuba was Mokuba. As long as he wasn't behaving the way she had at sixteen—although he was faking it.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." She waved her hand signalling the end of the discussion, just as the teen pulled his phone out to read Bakura's reply.

The blonde hummed softly to herself as Mokuba typed quickly on his phone. Her eyes wandered to the doors of Seto's study, she knew he was working at the office—or drilling a model in a public washroom—but she wouldn't have minded knowing he was in the other room. Home and safe, like he belonged.

"Like he deserves…" she finished in a soft whisper.

"Hm?" Mokuba asked, slipping the mobile back into the pocket of his skin tight pants. Ali wondered for a moment how he managed to fit anything in his pockets, but she shook her head quickly.

"Nothing. I'm starving, when's lunch?" she looked at the digital clock on the DVD player, it was already noon.

"Shardi probably has something ready, come on." The teen motioned for her to follow. Ali stood up, pulling a cigarette out of her bag as she did so.

"Is it okay to smoke in here?" she asked, knowing that Mokuba had never minded in the past. True to form, he shrugged.

"Go ahead, Seto does all the time… I guess he thinks I don't smell it."

Ali bit her lip, she didn't want to have anything in common with the CEO in his state, but couldn't bring herself to discard the cigarette, so she lit it instead. She sighed, breathing the toxins out of her lungs as she and Mokuba stepped into the kitchen.

"I guess it'll just be another thing for him to quit, when the time comes."

Mokuba nodded, poking his head into the back part of the kitchen where Shardi spent his time, and telling him they were ready for lunch. Ali set herself down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, looking around.

Her mind drifted to Seto, and how he had attacked her in the same room but a few days before. His words, his threats, his lips… a shiver ran down her spine at the thought of the last. She wondered if it was wrong that even in the heat and anger of the moment, even though the kiss had meant nothing but to scare her off… was it wrong that she'd been reliving the moment in her waking moments, and revising it in her dreams? In her dreams in never ended with her crying and Seto leaving making it hurt to wake up and realize that things weren't that way.

"Shardi made potato and leek soup," Mokuba said, sitting down across from her at the table, "it's good."

A sudden thought occurred to Ali and she stared up at the teen's stormy eyes. "Mokuba," she started, "I know that Seto never ate much before, and the drugs are probably wrecking his appetite… but what exactly _does_ he eat?"

Mokuba's eyes dulled and stared down at his hands—mimicking his brother's long elegant fingers. "He…" his voice was low and sad, Ali's heart swelled in pain at the sound.

"We're dealing with more than drugs, aren't we?" she asked sadly, "Years of denying and pretending has left him a complete wreck…"

Mokuba's eyes were tear-filled when he looked back up at Ali, he nodded. "I hate Gozaburo for what he did to my brother. And I hate you for leaving him when he was getting used to being close to people. And I hate myself for leaving him alone to deal with it. And I hate him, for letting it get this bad…" he whispered hoarsely. Ali stared at the teen, his mood swings were unpredictable, and it felt like she was back t stage one with him.

She numbly thanked the maid who set their soup down, and folded her napkin, silently.

"Do you know what happened to him with… with Gozaburo?" she asked, finally.

Mokuba stared off into the distance for a moment before nodding, "I figured it out eventually."

"How?"

"Probably the same way you did, he sure as hell wouldn't ever talk about it."

Ali nodded, understanding completely. She dipped her spoon into the soup and blew delicately on it before slurping it into her mouth slowly, Mokuba did the same and there were a few moments of comfortable silence as they ate.

Ali pulled her hair away from her face, letting it drape down her back, in her mind she was wondering how it was that so many days had passed since she'd been in contact with any of her clients, with none of them calling her. Usually, record producers, manager, or even the occasional publicist of lawyer would call when a deadline was approaching and she hadn't called them.

Her thoughts were broken when the sound of the front door clicking shut reached her ears. She pondered the fact that even after years away she could still define every small sound in the house, but quickly raised an eyebrow at Mokuba. He didn't say a word, only pushed his bowl a few inches further from him and stared at it disinterested. Ali took the hint immediately and changed her posture to look more protective of the teen.

"You should eat." She said, loudly enough in case it was Seto who had stepped into the house. If it was anyone else, they could drop the act, of course. But it wasn't worth taking risks.

"I ate." The teen said, slipping into character immediately and motioning at his bowl which had a few spoonfuls missing.

Ali's eyes lifted when she heard a soft footstep in the doorway. Sure enough, Seto was standing there, staring at Mokuba with a stoic expression. Ali refrained from smiling sadly; what she had said to him the night in the garden must have triggered something. He had come home early, and was studying his brother—things were started.

"Hi Seto." She said, as if she wasn't too aware of his presence. She made sure that her attention was quickly back on Mokuba, she needed Seto to think she knew something he didn't, something that made her lean toward Mokuba in the subtle manner that she was.

She didn't hear a reply, not even a small grunt; it hurt her feelings but didn't surprise her in the slightest. She spooned soup into her mouth and watched Mokuba; he was tracing circles on the table with his fingertip. Looking entirely depressed and bored. Perfect.

"So you're sure you don't want to do something with me tonight?" she asked, pretending that they had been discussing something of the sort earlier; it was ironic that the teen actually planning on going out with her later.

Mokuba shook his head, keeping his eyes low and his shoulders slouched. Ali became aware of Seto moving to pull a bottle of water out of the refrigerator; she could feel his eyes darting to her and Mokuba.

Shardi poked his head out of his part of the kitchen, "Can I get you anything, Mr. Kaiba?" he asked quickly. Seto stood silently for a moment before nodding his head shortly. Ali hid her shock and stared at Mokuba who gave a quick, worried glance in his brother's direction as the CEO stepped closer to the table and sat down next to Ali, across from the teen.

When the soup was placed in front of him, he didn't touch it, pulling his Blackberry out and sending a message out. After a few minutes, the silence became too much for Ali and she decided to speak.

"Shardi's food is as good as ever." She said, spooning another bite into her mouth. Mokuba was stirring his with feigned disinterest and Seto wouldn't even look at his own bowl.

"Hn."

Ali's eyes turned to the brunette and she looked his face over, he didn't look any healthier than he had in the past few weeks. In fact, he seemed to be getting progressively thinner; she tore her eyes away from the sight.

"I'm going to the washroom." Mokuba murmured, pushing himself up from the table and leaving the room quietly. Seto's eyes followed the teen until he was out of sight, then he immediately turned to Ali.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know…" she lied, eating the last of her soup and starting on a roll of bread—if her mouth and hands were busy, maybe she could get through a conversation with the CEO that didn't involve crying or arguing. The thought seemed alien to her, had she and Seto _ever_ had a normal conversation, even before he'd become the mess that he was?

"Yes, you do know. He wasn't like this before." The pushed, his frostbitten glare piercing her; she swallowed and tried to keep her composure under the blaze.

"Well you haven't really been around to notice, have you?" she knew that she was right—Seto hadn't been as close with his brother as they once were. If she lied skilfully enough, she could make him think that he just hadn't noticed the teen's newly formed behaviour. If she could trick him into thinking that he had missed such a crucial turning point in the boy's life, maybe he would be able to see everything else.

Seto took a long drink from the bottle of water he was holding, his soup still untouched.

"You need to eat, Seto." She said motioning to the bowl and pushing the basket of rolls in his direction. He didn't even acknowledge her effort; he was still staring in the direction that Mokuba had left.

"You seem healthy enough to leave," he finally said, his voice carrying a bitter edge.

"I guess, but I think I'll stay," she shrugged, "Mokuba could use the company with you gone all the time. He needs someone around to look out for him."

Seto didn't reply, but she could see the way his breathing paused momentarily. She knew that her words had hurt him, he had always been there for his family and even Ali hadn't doubted his devotion to Mokuba in the past. But now she was not only doubting it, but challenging it aloud.

"I mean, you could come home early every day if you wanted to," she continued, "but you're never _really_ here anymore, are you?"

Seto stood up, facing away from her, and stormed out of the room the heels of his boots clicking loudly over the tiles. She watched as he, too, disappeared from sight and sighed to herself.

Shardi appeared at her side, setting another bowl of soup down.

"If I remember correctly, you have a tenancy to devour anything and everything available," he said, his voice joking lightly.

Ali chuckled softly, pulling the steaming bowl closer to herself.

"Thanks," she said stirring her spoon through it.

"I'm glad someone finally has the guts to come in here and tell that man what's what," the chef said seriously, as he turned away. Ali blinked and stared down at the creamy, warm mixture.

As she sat alone, she wondered how it was that she was the only one to care enough to help Mokuba save Seto. He had millions of adoring fans, a flood of employees and other businessmen who worshipped him, and yet only she could see that he was a wreck. And if anyone else noticed, they weren't doing anything about it. It didn't make sense to her, Seto was important, so why were his problems hidden away like insignificant details?

**. . .**

Ali stared out at Mokuba through the glass wall of the soundproof booth she was contained in, she smirked.

"This is so cool," she said, pulling the elastic out of her hair and letting it fall to the small of her back. Her eyes scanned the small recording studio, again, it was casually decorated, a few guitars in the corner, a drum set near the far wall and a piano in the center. She was sitting on top of the baby grand with her legs crossed, a microphone hanging in front of her mouth.

The teen on the other side of the glass smiled and turned his attention to the control panel. The recording studio was located in the basement of the Kaiba's mansion, a floor Ali had never bothered to explore before. Mokuba had explained that he'd built it earlier that year to record demos for universities and to lend out to local bands who couldn't afford to pay for any other form of studio time.

He'd offered to let her use it to record the master version of the song she had to send out the next day. Normally, the Russian would just use her laptop to mix the music and then do a low-quality vocal track with a microphone, she'd picked up at an electronics store. This, of course was much more interesting.

The music he'd helped her record the hour before played through her headphones and she placed the paper displaying the lyrics on the music stand behind the mic. Mokuba smirked when she started to sing the soft pop ballad and Ali had to refrain from laughing and ruining their seventeenth take.

Her voice wasn't good, but she didn't especially care when it just came to recording demos for other artists. As long as they could hear what the song was supposed to sound like—they'd appreciate it.

It was a song she'd written for Mokuba, and he didn't need to ask to understand that. She smiled as she let the words fall out of her mouth, clumsily stretching over the notes. Her voice cracked and she cried out in frustration.

"I can't fucking sing this." She growled, knowing that the teen could hear her perfectly. He flipped the switch that let her hear him, too.

"You wrote it, you should be able to sing it," he laughed. Ali frowned, quickly, before her eyes brightened and she jumped down off the piano.

"You do it!" she grinned, dropping the headphones down where she had been sitting and skipping from the booth. Mokuba's eyes narrowed when she was standing next to him.

"That's a bad idea." He groaned.

"No, it's not. It going to be a guy singing when it comes out, anyway. Plus, you have an amazing voice, don't think I've forgotten!" she smiled, patting him on the back and pushing him in the direction of the door leading into the booth.

"But I don't know the song," he tried to protest. Ali rolled her eyes and snorted.

"Kid, you've been listening to me repeat it all day. You probably know it better than I do by now."

Clearly defeated, the raven-haired boy sulked into the booth and pulled the headphones off the piano, dropping them over his ears. He stayed standing, unlike Ali, and adjusted the mic to hang directly in front of his lips.

"Do you know how to work the rest of the stuff?" he asked, sceptically. Ali rolled her eyes, again.

"Mokie, I do this for a living, half my time is spend in recording studios with idiot musicians, teaching them how to suck less." She said, flipping the outside sound off, to prove her point. After a moment of leaving the teen in silence she started the recording and the background track.

Mokuba looked nervous at first, but he came in on cue, and Ali's heart melted when she heard him singing. He didn't have the sweet, childish voice that he had years ago, but it was beautiful in an evolved way.

'_When I left you, in the doorway,  
Should have taken that last plane home,  
but I took a picture and didn't look your way._

_It's three o'clock in the evening,  
Out on the street again, no snow, no friends,  
thinking back to the last dance, no meaning._

_It's a small world, but we're still so far,  
Would it be simpler I could just wash this city away?  
Like I did, back when you would play the guitar…  
And we'd sing, and we'd laugh,  
I never thought things could be so hard, not with you in my arms.'_

He kept singing while Ali watched, mesmerized. She tried to stifle the anger and hurt, churning in the pit of her stomach, when she thought about how far he would go. How far he was going to go, if Seto could stop being too selfish to give the teen the chance he deserved. Of course, if something happened to the CEO—if he _let_ something happen to him—Mokuba would have to take over the company. He would never sell or abandon his brother's legacy, he didn't have the heart.

She clapped loudly when Mokuba finished the vocal track, smiling nervously at her through the glass wall.

"Awesome!" she exclaimed, when he left the booth and joined her by the control panels, "Only one take, high-five!" She held her hand up for him to slap gently.

When the teen pulled his hand away, Ali glanced at the studded leather watch on his wrist. It was already nine in the evening, they'd been in the studio for hours.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "Mai's probably waiting for us at the club! I told her we'd meet her there at nine!" she looked at herself in the reflection in the glass and groaned loudly, she wasn't exactly dressed for clubbing.

Mokuba saw her looking at herself and laughed, "It's okay, you can borrow some of my clothes." He smiled, pulling her towards the stairs by the elbow.

"You're kidding, like I would fit into any of _your_ tight-ass clothes." Ali argued, confused as to how the boy couldn't see the obvious difference between his lean physique and hers.

"Relax, unlike Seto, I can't eat whatever I want and stay skinny," he laughed pulling her further up the stairs and into the living room, toward the second flight of stairs, "I have stuff for when I don't hit the gym, or when I eat to much."

"You're such a sweet, sweet, boy, letting me borrow your fat day clothes." Ali drawled sarcastically. The teen chuckled but didn't say another word. Ali began to get nervous, he was acting a little but too much like Mai when she played dress up with Ali.

And that never ended in comfort.

—

Ali stared at herself in the mirror, trying to convince herself that it wouldn't be a complete mistake to leave the house in the attire Mokuba had given her. She'd already thrown on a layer of lip gloss and a little bit of mascara, since that was all she really knew how to apply… but it hadn't helped.

She was crammed into a pair of the tightest jeans she had ever seen in her life, she wasn't even sure if movement would be an option. And inch of her stomach was showing, no matter how many times she tried to yank the tight leather vest over it. She sighed and pulled open the door to the washroom, deciding that it wasn't going to get any better.

When she stepped into Mokuba's bedroom and saw him, her jaw dropped. Next to him, she looked wildly conservative.

"You will be raped." She said, seriously, as she took in the teen's outfit.

He was wearing a pair of skin-tight leather pants, covered with random straps and buckles that couldn't have had any real purpose. His shirt was long-sleeved, but it left his shoulders completely bare, and he had a pair of knee-high silver combat boots fitted over the pants.

"Relax, I go out like this all the time." Laughed, dragging a brush through his hair quickly before motioning for her to follow him out of the room.

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Ali muttered as she followed him, she'd left her bag behind, seeing as it never seemed to make it home from clubs when she went out. She had a vile of pepper spray tucked into the pocket of the vest, so if anything happened, she wouldn't be entirely helpless.

When they got into Mokuba's car she turned to him, suddenly confused. "Didn't you invite Bakura?"

"Mhm."

"So… is he coming?"

"Yes," Mokuba reached down and flicked his stereo on, letting the music pour into their ears, and not leaving and silence for the conversation to continue. Ali gave up, and stared out the window as they drove toward the little club that she and Mai had discovered years ago, and visited whenever they were in town, ever since.

The streets were busy; it was a Friday night after all, so that was to be expected. The parking lot of the club was already packed, which didn't bother Ali. The more people, the better, they were going out to forget about everything going on, if only for a while,

Mai was standing near the entrance chatting up one of the bouncers, Ali knew that even if Mokuba wasn't with them—as it was, he was their ticket inside—Mai would have had the bodyguard buttered up enough by now that they would be offered a VIP table.

"Hey," Mokuba said, stepping next to Mai and nodding at the bouncer. Ali watched as the man moved aside, giving them access to the club. Not even bothering to tell Mokuba that he shouldn't be allowed inside. She bit her lip, part of her resenting the special treatment the Kaiba's were given.

If it wasn't for everything being laid out for them—Seto wouldn't have access to so much.

The second they stepped inside, the loud music and swaying bodies of the crowds pulled them in. Out of the corner of her eye, Ali saw Mokuba wave at a white-haired boy sitting at the bar, she recognized him as Bakura. Mai was immediately snatched up by a man on the dance floor and in a few moments Ali was too.

The Russian wasn't paying much attention to the music, or the person she was dancing against; her head was still dancing through the thought of Seto, and how he was handed everything on a silver platter.

She let the base line pulse up her spine and she closed her eyes, wondering if she would feel the same way about Seto if he wasn't _Seto Kaiba_. She could say she loved him, but whether or not that was true, she didn't know. Sure, she felt feelings she couldn't explain, but when she thought of him… she was the CEO of a successful company. She saw power and money, and most of all a challenge. If Seto didn't have it all, she wouldn't see him as Seto—he would just be an asshole who bothered her.

But since he had so much, all she ever wanted was to strip it away and try to see if the man underneath could be a good man.

She tore herself out of the crowd and ordered a drink at the bar, deciding that if the music and the movement couldn't clear her head, than alcohol would help. She let the shot of vodka burn down her throat and immediately ordered another to chase it down.

She wasn't sure how much she had ingested, after the fourth shot she'd settled for a few mixed drinks, and things stopped making sense. She smiled as a kind stranger handed her something fruity and surely high in alcohol.

He was talking, but she was busy sipping the drink and staring out at the dance floor. Finally she felt him take her by the waist and pull her out into the sea of writhing hips. She was smiling and laughing as she tripped and bumped into people, who grinned back at her. Her hair was loose and flying with her head as she tossed it around, ignoring the small headache beginning to form in the base of her skull.

She turned and looked at the man who was grinding against her, his eyes were a vibrant blue and she smiled softly, brushing her finger along his cheek.

"Pretty," she muttered, trying to understand why she liked his eyes but not thinking too hard, it hurt a little.

The music was slurring together, and soon she couldn't even hear it over the ringing in her ears. She smiled and pushed, clumsily away from the stranger with the blue eyes, deciding that all of the liquid was catching up with her.

She made her way through the crowd, toward the washroom, like she had done many times in the club. But when she saw the line up she groaned. Women were filing down the hall, waiting patiently for their turn. Ali wasn't feeling to patient, and immediately turned to use the men's washroom; she'd done it hundreds of times before in the same situation, so it wasn't a big deal.

She stumbled and pushed the door open, ignoring the odd stares of men standing at urinals and she walked, clumsily toward one of the stalls. She grinned goofily at a man who cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Im'ma be fast." She slurred, she knew that her accent came out when she was drunk, so she tried not to talk. After one-too-man 'Rasputin' jokes at her expense when she was a drunk teen, she'd become self conscious about the accent.

She locked the door in the stall she entered and immediately glanced at the toilet paper holder—even when intoxicated, she didn't want to be stranded without toilet paper—and sure enough, it was empty. Frowning she climbed up on the seat of the toilet.

"D'you 'ave some toil—" Ali started, peeking her head over the stall and into the next. She had expected to find a man using the facilities, but instead there were two bodies, kissing in the stall. She narrowed her eyes at the two, trying to figure out what seemed off about it.

One of the men turned his face to look at her, his eyes widened, and his skin probably would have gone white if he was so pale already, his large brown eyes reminded her of her own.

She heard a gasp and turned her attention to the other face, a shorter boy, with fear-filled dark blue eyes. A lightly tanned face, framed by long black hair.

Ali's hand shot to the pepper spray in her pocket before she could think straight, she pushed down on the release of the aerosol can and aimed it at the face of the brown-eyed man. She heard yelling, and realized it was her own. Someone was trapping Mokuba in a bathroom stall and she immediately felt the protective instinct kick in.

Her face was flushed with anger—and alcohol—as the man screamed and covered his face, closing his brown eyes and turning away so that the spray was landing in his perfectly white hair.

She paused.

White hair?

"Bakura! You dir-dirty…" she stopped when she realized that Mokuba was leaned over the collapsed med student, using toilet paper to wipe the pepper spray out of his eyes. Her mind tried to work out what was going on, but it didn't make sense to her.

Why had Mokuba been kissing Bakura? Why wasn't he happy that she had saved him from a possible rape? Why was he helping the predator? Why had he invited Bakura in the first place, if he was such a bad man?

And then it hit her, unfortunately at the same time a bout of nausea hit her and she jumped down from the toilet to collapse in front of it and pour out the contents of her stomach.

* * *

**KC.**


	7. One More Thing

**Fall Back to Life**

**Chapter: **7

**Title: **One More Thing

**Fiction Rated: **R, it's still all about the mature themes, and adult humour. Now with added sexual content, drug abuse, self mutilation and half the calories. Always fresh, never from frozen.

**Disclaimer: **If I ever came to own an empire, I'd probably be too lazy to keep it in the spotlight and everyone would forget about it. So—although I'm sure there are a few of you who wouldn't mind seeing Ali animated—be thankful that _Takahashi Kazuki_ hasn't handed any rights over to me. I own Ali, though, and look what a loser she is.

**Summary:** Five years is a long time, it's long enough for a family to be torn apart, and a new one to form. It is enough time to learn to live, or to wait for death. In five years you can discover who you really are, and decide whether or not you like it. Unfortunately five years is also long enough to deep-root a grudge, rot a broken heart, and rebuild walls that were beginning to fall.

**NOTEEEE: This chapter is dedicated to Jade, for pestering me about my slow updating. :) **

**AND!**

**Everyone's reviews were appreciated by the parents of missing children who recieved their donation thanks to you guys! (Head over to my blog for proof and all that jazz, plus a picture of my new kitten!)**

* * *

Ali's fingers gripped the sparklingly clean toilet seat she was hunched over. She'd only been awake for a few moments, but immediately she'd run to the washroom and doubled down in front of it. She didn't have time to try and remember how she'd made it back to the Kaiba mansion, or recollect her memories of the night before, in between the acidic mixture she was heaving up, and trying to keep her hair from intercepting it.

The moment her stomach calmed, she collapsed on the tiled floor, chest heaving, gasping for air. The lights were turned off, luckily, she could already feel the migraine setting in; it wasn't a pleasant feeling. She wiped the cold sweat from her forehead and struggled to piece together what was going on. She remembered leaving the house with Mokuba, she remembered meeting up with Mai, she remembered drinking.

She groaned and pulled herself up to heave, again, into the toilet. Yes, there had defiantly been drinking. She heard soft footsteps enter the washroom behind her and before she could consider who it might be, her hair was being held out of the way while she hung her head over the toilet. A hand rested softly on her shoulder, comforting the tense muscles as the contracted against the pain in her head and stomach.

The Russian dragged the back of her hand across her mouth and leaned back, resting her head against the shoulder of whoever kneeled behind her. She wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed and sleep for another ten hours, but she didn't have enough energy to even move to her bed.

"Ali," his voice was soft, barely there but it cut into Ali's skull, leaving trails of white hot pain behind.

"Nnnhh…" she moaned, not wanting the moment between heaves to be spoiled by words.

"Ali, we need to talk."

Ali opened her eyes and stared up at the pair of stormy blue ones hovering over. He looked a little too awake to have just woken up, although she was sure that it couldn't be too late in the afternoon.

She stood up shakily, deciding that is she was going to deal with Mokuba, and everything that he'd done and she'd seen… she was going to calm the buzzing pain in her head. Mokuba let her leave the washroom after she'd held a finger up, signalling she'd be right back.

Immediately she was travelling down the hallway toward Seto's wing; she was all but salivating from the thought of all the painkillers she knew he had. She couldn't have been more thankful that it was raining outside, if she'd had to see the sun, she would have screamed.

She didn't bother knocking on Seto's bedroom door; she knew he wouldn't be home. She wasted no time lingering in the room, moving straight to the washroom and swallowing the weakest drug she could find; she needed a clear head, but she wanted it to stop hurting. She didn't look through the pills, deciding that she didn't need the CEO's problems on her mind at the moment. Her avoidance failed, as her hand clumsily knocked a bottle to the floor and she bent to pick it up.

She blinked when she read the label on the bottle; it wasn't a prescription, but an over the counter bottle of vitamin C. She folded her eyebrows, he was pumping drugs into his body, but concerned about a lack of vitamin C? When she realized that the bottle didn't rattle as she moved it over in her hand she became more confused. So she pried off the cap.

The blonde sucked in a quick breath and closed her eyes for a moment, pleading for her eyes to open and find herself in her own room. Begging for some mercy in life, that what she had seen had been a dream.

But never in her wildest dreams would she dream that Seto was stashing cocaine in an empty vitamin C bottle.

She held the bottle so tightly her knuckles went white; luckily the painkillers had kicked in, so she didn't feel her fingernails digging into her palm as she clenched her free hand in a fist. She tried to apathetic as she replaced the cap. As she replaced the bottle. As she closed the cabinet, and made her way out of the CEO's bedroom.

She managed to get halfway down the hall before her emotions took over and she collapsed, sobbing against the wall. It was too much to take at once, and for the first time since before she'd met the Kaiba brothers, Ali was tempted to take the drugs that had once stopped her mind from being distracted by the pain in the world.

She held her own head, wishing that she hadn't gone out the night before, and wishing that she hadn't gone into Seto's room for some extra-strength ibuprofen. She stood up, shakily, and looked around the hall, trying to remember which of the closed doors lead to a washroom. It would take a great deal of cold water on her face to hide that fact that she had been crying.

She pulled open one of the doors, only to find that it wasn't the washroom, but she paused, staring in awe and what she found.

Her breathing hitched as her eyes scanned across what must have been Seto's _real_ workspace. It wasn't a neatly organized office, it was a collection of long tabled covered with electronic parts that she couldn't have named if she wanted to.

Ali stepped inside the room, peering around at the things that were half-constructed, covering the tables. She tried to picture Seto inside the room, doing work that didn't involve writing reports of making calculations. She tried to imagine him, bent over the tabled, fiddling with tiny wires.

Absently, she ran her fingers along the closest gadget to her. In all the time she'd known him, it had never really occurred to her that _he_ was the one who actually manufactured prototypes for new products. She sighed softly, stepping between two tables and admiring the organized mess of the area.

A door at the end of the room caught her eye, and out of curiosity she pulled it open, peeking inside.

There were no windows, and a desk lamp was on, casting a dull light through the room that was no bigger than a walk-in closet. She stopped breathing when her eyes landed on the small desk.

Seto was sitting, posture less perfect than usual, with his back to her. He was holding a pencil and sketching across a piece of paper. Her ears picked up the low sound of music, playing from a radio on a shelf above the desk. Her heart swelled when she realized that it was one of her songs.

And a strangled sob escaped.

Immediately, the CEO turned and met her eyes, frowning deeply. His eyes were partially hidden behind a stylish pair of thick, rectangular, black-rimmed glasses. She tried to recall ever having seen him wear glasses before, but decided that it was a first.

"Are you pregnant?" he asked, coldly. Flipping over the sheet he had been sketching on, to hide it from her vision.

Ali shook her head, staring up at the ceiling to stop the tears that threatened to spill out from under her eyelids. She knew she had been far too emotional, but it wasn't something she could control anymore. All the years of being preoccupied had softened her to the feelings she didn't want to accept.

"What are you doing in here?"

"I thought you were at work."

"I am. You can't snoop through my rooms." He snapped angrily.

Ali breathed in, shakily and looked back at the CEO, studying his face, looking for all the tell-tale signs of an addict, a drug abuser. But he hid it well, and with a face as perfect as his, focus was easily drawn from the glazed over eyes.

"What are you working on?" she asked, eyeing the flipped over sheet of paper on his desk, and trying to keep her mind from wandering to the small packet of cocaine.

"That's none of your business, get out." Was the response she got, Seto pointed angrily to the door which was still ajar.

She ignored him and looked around some more to see if she could get any hint of what happened in the room. And she did. There were stacks of large papers on file cabinets, and a few sketches hung from the walls where they had been clumsily taped.

Landscapes, creatures, devices, and a million other things, sketched onto the papers that scattered the small office. Her lips parted in awe as she stared at one of the drawings, more closely. It was a landscape, mountains and rolling hills covered in what looked like needles, rather than grass.

Seto stood up from his chair and moved closer to the blonde, who instinctively moved a step back from him.

"Sorry, I was looking for the washroom and—"

"Crying," he cut her off, analyzing the redness in her eyes. Of course it didn't take much to know that she had been crying—it seemed like that was all she ever did anymore. "Why were you looking for the bathroom in my wing?"

Ali opened her mouth to tell the truth, but it was a perfect opportunity to add some more suspicion to the story she and Mokuba were building up. So she lied, instead.

"The maid's are cleaning Mokuba's; he was throwing up all this morning. And he won't let me use the one in his bedroom." She watched as Seto's eyes narrowed momentarily before his genius mind read into what that could mean.

"Well you should know where the washroom is, by now," he snorted, turning his face away from her and letting himself out of the cramped room.

"I know, I was just kind of… disoriented." She followed him from the room, and watched as he lifted what looked like a finished product and looked to her, again.

"Don't come in here again," he said lowly, before walking to the door and holding it open, heavily implying that he wanted her gone.

Ali nodded meekly, her headache was gone, but the nausea was returning, she didn't have it in her to argue. As she stepped though the door she opened her mouth, suddenly, deciding that she couldn't leave without saying something of what she'd found earlier.

"When your septum deviates, you're pills will get stuck." She said it just lowly enough for him to hear, and know what she was talking about. The door slammed behind her and she stepped down the hall as quietly as she could; feeling like she was not only unwelcome in Seto's wing… but in enemy territory.

–

Mokuba was perched on the edge of her bed, when she returned to her room. He was wearing an oversized hoodie and a pair of white silk pyjama pants.

Great, he was dressed as innocently as possible—knowing she couldn't be angry with the child she used to know.

"That took a while," he commented, looking straight at her.

"Ran into Seto," she said, honestly, toying with a loose string on the pyjamas Mokuba must have changed her in to the night before. "You wanted to… uhm… talk to me?" Her eyes stayed focused on anything except for the teen staring directly at her.

"You pepper sprayed Bakura, that seems worthy of a conversation," he said smoothly. Clearly, he had inherited his brother's ability to keep calm, even if he wasn't. and he couldn't be as calm as he seemed, not over such a delicate issue.

"He was assaulting you, that seemed worthy of a good pepper spraying," Ali retorted, not feeling up to the conversation at all. She would much rather have been taking a shower to wash away the previous night's events.

"Ali, he wasn't assaulting me. You know that."

Ali finally raised her eyes to the teen, studying his soft, fresh face. He obviously hadn't had a thing to drink the night before, or he wouldn't be looking so perfect.

"Well I'm not okay with it," she stated, cutting straight to the point and turning to pull a sweater off the dresser and yank it on over her pyjamas. Mokuba stood up from the bed, glaring at her.

"I'm not asking for your permission," he said defiantly.

"Good, because you wouldn't be getting it."

"Bakura never did anything to you!" His voice was getting louder, now, but Ali wasn't the least bit phased.

"No, but apparently he's doing all kinds of things to _you_," she retorted, showing Mokuba just how badly she wanted to go back to bed with her irritation. Somewhere inside she knew that she would be feeling bad for this later, but at the moment all she could think of was Seto's coldness and Mokuba's rebellion.

Mokuba's mouth opened, and his eyes shot daggers in her direction before he stepped past her, fists clenched.

"I can't help who I care about, Ali, and honestly I thought you would be more accepting." He said loudly, approaching the door. He was just stepping out of the room when Ali laughed, loudly.

He turned to see the blonde sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching her stomach, laughing had been a bad idea with her upset stomach. She opened her eyes, watering from the laughter and the pain, and stared at him as if he had just made a joke.

"You're just as retarded as your brother sometimes," she sighed, calming, "do you think I care that he's a _guy_?" she asked, seriously.

"I—I thought that was what this was about?" Mokuba answered, slowly.

"No, you dumbass, I don't like it because he's _my_ age! Not to mention the fact that you are way too young to be kissing in bathroom stalls at a bar!" she couldn't help but smile t the misunderstanding, "But if you want to be with dudes, I don't care one bit. This would be the same if it had been a chick."

Mokuba stared at the blonde for a moment, eyes wide at her revelation. He was silent as he mulled over her words for a moment, before a small smirk played across his features.

"You mean… you're not freaked out about me being…"

"Gay?" Ali finished for him, "Oh, hell no. I'm freaked out because you didn't tell me, and I had to find out while I was piss-ass drunk." She frowned, in thought, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Mokuba stepped out of the doorway and sat down next to her on the bed, draping and arm over her shoulders and smiling softly.

"I don't know, I guess I thought you'd think differently of me. I wouldn't be your brilliant little Kaiba anymore." He said quietly.

Ali's eyebrows rose, "Oh please, Mokuba. You're still a raging genius, who you fantasize about doesn't change that, and besides…" she paused, "I was sort of hoping for this. I mean, if you were wearing mesh and trying to pick up girls… we'd have a whole new set of issues."

The teen laughed and pulled the blonde into a hug; she squeezed her arms around his waist and breathed in the familiar scent of gardenias that always flooded from the boy's mass of ebony hair. They sat, embracing for a few moments before Ali pulled back and stared seriously at Mokuba.

"You're too young to be getting it on with Bakura."

Mokuba laughed, tossing his hair over his shoulder, "Don't worry about it. I'm responsible." He laughed, waving his hand as though it was nothing at all.

Ali was just opening her mouth to explain that she had every right to worry, but she was interrupted by a maid who pocked her head through the open door and offered the pair breakfast.

Mokuba graciously accepted, and pulled a still-hung-over Ali down the hall with him, in his race to get to the kitchen.

**. . .**

Ali bounced Chloe on her hip, tickling behind her ear and smiling as the child laughed. Mai had dropped her off after dinner, after having to respond to a last minute call from her agent, asking the woman to travel to another district and attend a business gathering.

Which Ali immediately translated into 'partying with the models.'

"She's so cute," Mokuba cooed, he was sitting next to Ali on the couch, smiling while he watched Ali turn into the gentle, nurturing creature she became around Chloe.

Chloe flashed him a smile and Ali nodded in agreement, while she played with a baby blue ribbon tied in the child's long blonde curls.

"The cutest thing under the sun," Ali laughed, when the kid climbed off of her lap and ran to play with some of the toys Mai had left her with. She watched Chloe hold a small plastic doll carefully in her hands, and run a tiny plastic brush through her polyester hair—doing nothing but messing it up more and more. And her thoughts wandered back to her encounter with Seto that morning.

With his hair tousled just slightly, giving him a barely dishevelled appearance that she'd only before seen on him, the morning when she'd awoken with him in his New York apartment. But that was back when he was just a power hungry, control freak, CEO. Now when she thought of him, she could see only weakness, and a failure to control himself.

"You're thinking about Seto," Mokuba observed coolly. His eyes were turned on her and he was studying her face like a teacher might study a student who had scored lower than usual on a test. Searching for something wrong, or different.

Ali cleared her throat and laughed softly, "Is it that obvious?" she asked, trying to make light of it, and hide her embarrassment that he had noticed.

"No, but I know you well," the teen smiled gently, "and you looked like you were about to cry."

Ali had decided to keep the discovery she had made about Seto's empty vitamin C bottles to herself. Mokuba needn't know that his brother, and caretaker, was indulging in illegal acts—something that would tarnish his reputation and possibly ruin his career if it was leaked to the press.

"Just wondering when he'll be home," she shrugged. He'd left the house sometime after lunch, to go to his office. Ali had been curious, and tried to sneak back into his closet-sized office where he sketched out ideas for games—but he'd locked it behind himself.

Mokuba was wearing the shade under his eyes, fully ready to slip into character at any moment he needed to. He nodded his head, obviously wondering as well.

"Who knows with Seto," he sighed, then quickly changed the subject. "Have you been… eluding to my fake problems when you talk to him?"

The Russian nodded her head, things seemed to be going well enough in that department.

"I just wish it would go faster than this," she moaned quietly, "I wish that he would bottom-out, get clean, and be the same bastard with a God complex I used to know… by tomorrow."

Mokuba gave a small snort, "That would be nice, but 'Kura said that we should be prepared to wait."

Ali grimaced at the mention of Mokuba's… Mokuba's what? What were he and Bakura, anyway? She realized that it hadn't occurred to her to ask.

"What's going on with the two of you?" she asked, not changing the subject deliberately, but letting it happen anyway. "Are you… dating? In a relationship?"

The teen smirked, "We're… somewhere in between. I met him a few weeks before you showed up, and I guess this has brought us closer in some weird way."

Ali nodded, "Odd couple."

"No, I'm a Kaiba, I can get anyone I want and Bakura is gorgeous enough for it to make sense," he paused, "what was odd was you and Seto."

Ali's head tilted, "We weren't a couple."

"No," Mokuba agreed, "but you probably would have ended up that way, sooner or later. I swear, watching you two get closer and closer was the funniest thing."

"And why is that?"

"You're just not… not what people would expect a Kaiba to go after."

Ali pouted, and squared her shoulders resentfully, "I'll have you know that my charm makes up for my lack of sensational beauty," she paused, "you bitch."

The teen rolled his eyes, "How charming," he drawled.

They were interrupted by Chloe appearing at Ali's side and putting a hand on her Godmother's shoulder. Ali smiled at the beaming child who proceeded to explain that she was tired and thought she should go to sleep.

"You really were born a thirty-year-old, weren't you?" Ali chuckled, shaking her head at the tiny girl's responsible request, "Yeah, you can sleep in my room."

Mokuba smiled, watching Ali gather the child into her arms, along with the small bag filled with Chloe's toiletries and pyjamas and headed for the staircase. She was just about to ascend the stairs, when the doorbell rang.

She looked at back at Mokuba who didn't look like he had been expecting anyone to show up, he shrugged and waiting for the sound of Roswell answering the door. Ali balanced Chloe on her hip and leaned against the banister, deciding to wait and see who it was—it was possible that Mai's 'meeting' ended early, after all.

Chloe rested her head on the Russian's shoulder, waiting for the woman to take her to bed.

After a short minute the sound of footsteps on the hall outside the living room could be heard and Ali set her eyes on the doorway, where Mokuba's rested as well.

When Joey stepped in, in front of the butler who left the man alone, knowing that he was a regular visitor at the mansion.

Ali immediately tried to whirl around—knowing that Mai would not be happy if she knew that the American boy had been anywhere near little Chloe, especially in her absence. Unfortunately she tripped over her own feet in her haste and Chloe's small squeal sent Joey's eyes in the direction of the staircase, and the two upon it.

For a moment Ali's tried to look as though nothing was out of the ordinary, but it wasn't everyday she tried to run upstairs in the Kaiba mansion, with a four-year-old in her arms. Much less to escape someone who she considered a fairly decent friend.

"Hey, Ali, what's up?" the American man asked, slowly, eyeing Chloe before a light of recognition shone through in his eyes, "'Dat Mai's sister?" he asked, having never been told otherwise.

Ali was just moving to no her head, but Chloe decided to interrupt.

"Mai's my mom," she said, narrowing her eyes at Joey. Obviously the child hadn't forgotten Mai's fit after seeing Joey for the first time in five years. Ali could feel sweat appearing above her eyebrows, as she tried to find a way to avoid the whole situation.

Buy Joey's face had already registered shock, "Wow, I can't believe Mai had a kid!" he exclaimed, staring the child down, "but 'ya sure look like her." He moved nearer to Ali so that he could study Chloe, analyzing her small, tired face.

"Who are you?" Chloe asked, ignoring the tension Ali was spewing all over the room. She knew that if she didn't ask the questions herself, no one was going to sit her down and give her answers.

"I'm Joey, Ali's old friend," he smirked, immediately melting—like everyone did—at the adorable child's high, inquisitive voice. "What's y'er name?"

"Chloe," the child responded, becoming less wary of Joey, and smiling slightly.

"I was just putting her to bed," Ali said quickly, stumbling over the words as she tried to back away from Joey and up the stairs. In her head she was cursing Mai for putting her in such a situation. She sent a desperate look to Mokuba, who was sitting on the couch analyzing the situation, trying to decide if he could help in anyway.

"I'm not tired anymore," Chloe said, suddenly, turning her face to look at her God mother who could have screamed in frustration at the sudden change of heart. "It's early, anyway."

"Well I wanna know more 'bout anyway," Joey chuckled, reaching out to take Chloe from Ali's arms. For a moment she debated clutching the child tightly and running upstairs anyway, but gave up on the idea when she saw the way Joey smiled warmly.

The Russian sighed and slouched her shoulders, moving to the couch and sitting back down, next to Mokuba while Joey set Chloe on the floor and let her explain to him how to put the clothes on her dolls.

"I'm fucked," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth, to the teen next to her.

"Mai is going to kill us," he agreed almost inaudibly. But he knew that if the blonde truly didn't want Joey near Chloe, she wouldn't be letting them play together. He knew that somewhere inside of Ali, there was a hope that everything would turn out perfectly for the little girl.

"So what's the deal did Mai end up marrying some movie star?" Joey asked, looking up at Ali, she bit her lip at the way he sounded so nonchalant. If Mai had married, and started a family… would he care at all?

"No," Chloe answered, not even looking up from her toys, "I don't…" she paused midsentence, and peered up at the American man kneeling next to her. For a moment she just studied him silently, before she finished speaking, "my dad didn't marry my mom."

Ali's heart gave a leap and she whirled her head around to stare at Mokuba, fear evident in her eyes. He understood immediately, Chloe had switched midsentence from saying 'I don't know my dad' to a much more discreet, 'they're not married.'

The Russian pulled her hand to her mouth, and let her teeth go to town on her short nails. Chloe sensed something was off, and she had her mother's intelligence, Ali knew any resistance was futile. The child was going to figure things out at one point, anyway.

"That's too bad," Joey said slowly, unsure of whether he should treat Chloe like a child—for she was—or follow her mature reasoning. "He would have been a lucky man to have a girl like you in his life."

"Too lucky," Chloe agreed before handing the man a tiny pair of pink pumps to fit onto the doll he was holding. He sent Ali an exasperated look, either because of Chloe's cryptic comments, or because he didn't think his masculine fingers could work the tiny shoes onto the doll.

Ali relaxed a little, realizing that Chloe wasn't going to say anything more, except for babble about how careful Joey should be with the dolls, and she leaned softly against Mokuba.

"You didn't say what you came for, Joey," Mokuba commented, finally.

"Oh, right!" The American jumped up from the floor and grinned goofily at the teen, he fished around in his pocket for a moment before withdrawing a cell phone. "Bakura wanted me to bring this to you, apparently you asked him to hang onto it for you, and he never got a chance to give it back. He said he would have brought it himself, but he was afraid…?" he cocked an eyebrow, hoping for an explanation as to why the med student would be afraid to return the phone himself.

Mokuba laughed gently, taking the phone from Joey's outstretched hand.

"Well he doesn't have any reason to be afraid," he paused, glancing at Ali, "right?"

The blonde sighed, irritated about having to accept that her sweet innocent Mokuba was going to be dating someone her age, and probably defiled.

"No," she said, rolling her eyes, and sounding as defiant as she possibly could.

The teen smirked and ruffled her hair softly, before standing up.

"I should go call him, I haven't talked to him since last night, hopefully he can at least see properly now, you did a number on him with that pepperspray," he laughed, sounding less-than-concerned about Bakura's wellbeing, but Ali knew he had probably been fighting the urge to make contact all day.

"Fine," she groaned, "leave me, go call your boyfriend."

"What?" an icy voice questioned.

Ali's head whipped around so quickly, she felt her neck crack. Seto was standing in the doorway, apparently having just stepped in. She was aware of Mokuba's posture slouching, just a little, in the presence of his brother, and for a moment she wondered why he was slinking back.

Seto was supposed to think that Mokuba was a heroin addict, right. She reminded herself, painfully.

Seto's frostbitten eyes flickered from Ali to Mokuba then back, she shivered lightly under the scrutiny. He was wearing a white suit, and holding his briefcase loosely next to his thigh, it was strange for her to look at him, and remember the other side she had seen of him that morning.

She laughed awkwardly; trying to think of a way that she could joke about what had just been said in a way that wouldn't make it obvious she was hiding something. She was ready to make a crack at how the feminine side of the Kaiba genes could make anyone look a little queer, but Seto had already turned his attention away from her, and back to his brother.

"I thought you were sick?" he said, raising an eyebrow. Ali remembered using that excuse earlier to explain why she had been wandering around in Seto's wing.

"I'm fine now," the teen muttered, raising his eyes to give his brother a look that heavily implied he didn't want to speak. Ali's heart leaped, seeing them interact in such a way made her feel like she had just stepped into another country where everything was different.

"You weren't home when I got back from work, last night," the CEO observed, coolly, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice.

Ali wondered if he had even bothered to check and see if _she_ had been in the house when Mokuba was gone. But if he knew they were both gone, chances were he wouldn't even bother bringing it up, she pouted slightly, realizing that he probably hadn't even thought to check for her.

"I was out."

"Where?" Seto snapped, not missing a beat, "Who were you with?"

"Out," Mokuba repeated, "with friends."

Out of the corner of her eye, Ali saw Joey scoop Chloe up into his arms and ascend the stairs, keeping the child out of the obvious battle that was about to unfold.

Ali sunk back into the couch, wishing she could disappear as easily as her friend had. She watched as Seto's hand reached into his pocket, and pulled something out. He held it up into the light and she held back a gasp.

Between his thumb and forefinger was a syringe, exactly like the ones Bakura had supplied Mokuba with. Her eyes flickered to the teen, who didn't look at all surprised by his brother's discovery, and she realized that he must have 'accidentally' left it somewhere that Seto could find it… without seeming like it was left on purpose.

"I fount this is your bathroom," Seto said calmly, "tomorrow morning, the driver is taking you to a private rehabilitation facility, you will stay there until the doctors clear with me that you are recovered and can return home."

Mokuba's eyes widened and Ali choked audibly, drawing Seto's attention to her.

"Did you know anything about this?" he asked coldly, watching her indifferently as she shook her head rapidly. Her heart wasn't brave enough to beat, at the moment, she was too shocked that Seto would be so quick to send his brother away.

It was all happening far too soon, this wasn't supposed to be how it would unfold. Seto was supposed to find out, realize that to protect Mokuba he had to take care of himself and then everything would be perfect, and they would all be happy and everything would be okay.

Mokuba turned and fled up the stairs, leaving Ali alone with the last person she wanted to left alone with.

"When… did you find that?" she asked, barely above a whisper, suddenly desperate to keep the CEO in the room with her, and convince him he was being too rash.

"Last night," he said quickly, "I want you out of my house tomorrow, when Mokuba leaves."

"You can't kick him out!" she defended, standing up from the couch and quickly running to his side, staring up at his stoic face. "You can't tell him to leave!" she wanted to add that Mokuba needed to stay because he hadn't done a thing wrong, and it was all a ploy to trick Seto. But she held her tongue.

"He is a minor and I am his legal guardian I have every right to—"

"You're his _brother_!" Ali shouted, wrapping her hands around his wrist and pulling him down to her eye level to that they were nose-to-nose. "You need to talk to him, you need to _try_ to help him before you do something so… so…"

"Responsible," Seto finished, jerking his hand away, "I'm not going to let this go any further, he's getting help immediately," he paused, turning his face away from Ali and pulling himself straight again, "clearly this is not a healthy environment for him to recover in."

Ali's hands dropped, and she watched as Seto turned away from her and began to retreat from the room. But before he could leave her sigh, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, binding his own arms to his sides for the moment.

She buried her face in his back, setting her forehead between his shoulder blades and inhaling the fresh scent of minty lime that she remembered so clearly, yet seemed so much more vibrant when it was flooding her nose.

The CEO stopped in his tracks and held still as the blonde held her face against his back. He didn't step away immediately, only drank in the alien feeling of being touched by another human being, in a way that implied genuine care. How long had it been…?

"Do you think that he can be healthy when you're killing yourself?" she asked, the question was muffled by her lips against his overcoat, but he understood the words perfectly. "Do you think that anyone who sees you like this can be healthy and happy when we know what's really happening?"

Seto turned around, prying the woman from him and staring down into her eyes, filled with anger and brimming with tears.

"I told you to go away, I warned you not to stay here. I told you, you could take Mokuba away, and let him live with you. He has enough of his own money to keep him more than comfortable, and he's always going to have access to the Kaiba Corp. funds." He said lowly, "But you didn't listen, and now you're just as involved in this as I am, and now you have to sit and watch _me_ protect him, because you didn't."

Ali's jaw dropped, and she blinked back a few tears that threatened to fall. Before she thought it through, her hand reached up and slapped the CEO across the face.

"You asshole!" she accused, "Don't try and pin the blame on me! Who's the one exposing him to all the drugs and sick shit? Who's the one who let him grow into such a fuck-up?" she felt her heart swell and burst, knowing that the words she was saying were hardly true. Mokuba had turned out fine, even without Seto's help… but she continued anyway. "Who's the one that taught him that he was free to do anything because of how much cash he has to his name?"

Seto stared down at her, his eyes didn't give any indication of his thoughts, but she heard his breath hitch. He stared at her so long that she thought his eyes would surely burn a hole through her skull, before he finally spoke.

"I had residue of the contents in the syringe tested today," he said lowly, "saline, clever. But if you think I know so little about my brother that I'd believe your bullshit about him being as low as I am, you're wrong." He said bitterly, but he didn't move a step away from her.

"Then why did you play along…" she trailed off, too confused to finish the sentence properly.

"Because the car, tomorrow, will be taking him to a plane station, and to a house I just bought in New York." He stopped talking and pulled a small envelope out of his jacket. "This is a ticket for you, you'd be smart to go with him."

Ali didn't take the envelope, too confused to move. She watched as Seto placed it on the coffee table and disappeared from the room, leaving her to understand what exactly was going on. She heard the front door close as Seto left the house, she heard his tires squeak against the driveway. And then she heard the phone ring.

Numbly, she stepped to where the phone sat and lifted it from the cradle, it took her a moment to form the words into the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is Marcus Gurardo, from Gurardo law office. I'm calling to return Mr. Kaiba's message about coming in tomorrow, to draft the final copy of his will. He said he wanted the earliest appointment he could get, and I wanted to let him know that my 8am appointment cancelled, so I can slide him in then. Is he available?"

Ali's fingers loosened, and the phone dropped to the floor. Her eyes moved to stare out the window, and she had a sudden memory of the book she had read about Gozaburo Kaiba, when she was a teenager.

And how he'd thrown himself from a window, when his life began to fall apart; she felt her heart rate quicken as she ran up the stairs to where she knew Mokuba, Joey and Chloe were waiting.

"Ali, what's going…" Mokuba started, but stopped when he saw the ghost white face of his friend. They were in her bedroom, and all three watched as Ali grabbed the pack of cigarettes she kept on her nightstand, and pulled a lighter from her bedside drawer.

"Mokuba," she started, keeping her voice as neutral as she could, "take Chloe back to my apartment. Call Mai and tell her she needs to come home. _Stay_ there until I call you. Don't even leave the complex." She looked at Joey, "Stay away from them, and don't talk to anyone who asks you about anything."

"What's are you doing?" Mokuba asked, standing from the bed, and watching Ali try to leave the room, holding only her cigarettes. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to wait for Seto to come back, there's a tradition that needs to be broken in this family." She muttered, stepping out into the hallway, and making her way to Seto's wing, knowing that Mokuba would follow her instructions.

For the first time, Seto had slipped up; he'd left her to receive the phone call, which gave so much away. He'd left her alone in his house, and she would be waiting for him when he returned.


End file.
